Fight or Flight
by demonsdown
Summary: Options. Life is all about options. I ain't afraid to stand my ground, but most times running's all that makes sense. Or maybe there just wasn't nothing worth fighting for, before the world fell apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, or anywhere, or any crossbows you recognize. I'm just playing.**

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 **Prologue. Pre-season 4**

I might've been able to ignore the pacifier. It was the teething ring that fucked me over.

See, here's the thing, I ain't surprised by people's kinks and perversions. Maybe, with the world gone to shit an' all, it'd make more sense for them to concentrate on something other than what gets 'em off, but people are still people, I guess.

By which I mean _men_.

By which I mean _living_ men.

So, a pacifier. Pink, Minnie Mouse, if I wasn't mistaken. That could've been for him even if he looked like your run of the mill thug; all guns-out, 'leather is my natural covering'. Still, the tougher they come, the harder they sometimes like to bawl.

But the teething ring seemed like overkill.

I'd already watched the Asian dude hit up the personal care aisle like he was a six year old filling a plastic pumpkin with candy. Condoms had plenty uses, other than the obvious, true; but any guy who was _that_ pleased to find tampons had a girl to go home to.

And now I was thinking maybe Guns had a baby too.

Shit.

They didn't know I was here, no more'n the others did. So, it was my choice.

Shitshitshit.

 _Turn around, Guns, collect your sensitive little friend and turn..._

I threw one of my M&M's at his head.

It had the required effect of stopping him in his tracks before he got close enough to turn the handle on the office door. It also had the less desirable result of finding a fuckin' _crossbow_ trained on my face.

I was up in the rafters. Someone had decided that 'steel frame warehouse chic' was the way to go for this hick town Kwik-E-Mart. Or maybe it was genuinely a warehouse before they made it a supermarket. Either way, it was one big jungle gym of a structure and—understandably, given that these days most of the things that wanna kill you are at ground level—people never look up.

Guns was about ready to let fly at me. I pointed at the door in front of him and shook my head, putting my finger on my lips.

His body language went all like, _What?_

Asiandude showed up at the other end of the aisle. Guns held up one hand—without losing his bead on me—and Asiandude froze.

 _The hell, tough guy? You can give signals, but you can't read 'em_? I rolled my eyes at him— _you getting that, babe? Universal sign for 'Jesus H Christ, you idiot'—_ and pointed at the door again, going for a dramatic throat-cutting gesture this time. He got it.

He mouthed the words, 'How many?' and I held up my hand, fingers spread. Even thugs can count five. He couldn't stop himself glancing at the door. I knew the window was covered by a poster on the inside, there wasn't nothing for him to see. But, right as he started backing down the aisle, there was a crash from inside the office that proved I ain't no liar.

Guns pointed at me and then towards the exit.

Fuck.

I knew what he saw, a scruffy chick about half his size. No threat. No problem.

But I had options. I still had options. I didn't haveta follow him. Wouldn't be the first time I slept on a ledge somewhere. Only I happened to know there was a whole stack of food cans in that frigging office, plus the rest, so I might be looking at more than one day. And maybe these two mystery shoppers _were_ one of my options.

I crawled along until I was a couple of aisles further away before I swung down. An' I made sure to pick one where both ends of the aisle were open, giving me at least a chance of an exit strategy, because I ain't no idiot. Although it turned out my reception committee was still mighty suspicious. With crossbow. Maybe I wasn't so non-threatening, after all.

I woulda thought it gave him cramp, or at least crossed eyes, looking at everything through that thing.

Weighing up my chances of outrunning an arrow, I decided on 'slim to shit all'. All because of a fucking teething ring.

Asiandude kept his voice just the right side of a whisper as he spoke to me. "Are there any more walkers?"

"Say what?"

"The dead ones? Are they all trapped in the office?"

"They ain't dead."

So, that news produced a different kind of wary and I didn't blame 'em, although I could see they was both packing some serious firepower. I indicated their holsters. "You could take 'em. Easy." Easy, by now. I thought about the cases of booze in the office, with no little regret.

For a second, it seemed like Guns was keen to help me clean house, but when Asiandude shook his head and said they didn't need no hassle, they had other stuff to be doing, he fell into line. Interesting.

We made our way to the front of the empty produce section, stopping shy of the expanse of dirt-streaked glass.

"You got a car?" Whatever they decided to tell me, at the very least, they had transport. I would even lay money they had somewhere to live. Asiandude was _clean_. Relatively. And so were his clothes. Not in a 'just knocked off some store' kind of way. Hell, we can all get a new wardrobe like that, these days. His shirt was worn, but recently washed.

Even Guns looked...less grungy than he could've. He was what he was. A type I knew. I coulda told you what his favorite food would be, what brand of beer he'd choose. What cigarettes he'd smoke. I knew how he'd sound when he eventually opened his mouth. Filth already came natural to him, before the world went to shit. Hell, if it walks like a hick and quacks like a hick...

Asiandude nodded. "Yeah, you?"

I shook my head. "Ran outta gas just before town. You got any spare?"

"Nah," Guns supplied real quick, cutting across his friend, who said, " _Daryl_ ," like he woulda let me have some.

I opened my mouth to suggest a mutually beneficial deal and all hell broke loose in the office, in back. Shouting. Stuff breaking. Loud enough to attract the attention of the wandering corpse bastards in the parking lot. They started battering the windows like some kind of freaky undead Black Friday mob.

Talk about your rock and your fucking hard place.

"Let's get out of here."

I didn't need telling twice, but I had stuff to collect. I'd stashed my pack under one of the display counters, before hiding in the rafters when company came calling.

By the time I'd kicked the panel aside and retrieved my stash, the dead fuckers were in; one of the windows over by the registers had given way. The nearest door also now had no glass, although the one that did it wasn't getting no early bird bargains; she'd fallen onto the jagged shards and was making progress only inch by inch as she dragged herself across the door frame.

Christ, but they stink when the guts come out.

Asiandude pulled out a wicked knife and put a stop to her and then we were through and dodging across the lot. Even firing—and retrieving the arrow—didn't slow Guns down, he barely broke stride to rip it out of a shattered skull, as he sprinted past me. I was nearly cut off by a dead 'un, but I'd slung my bag over my shoulder so it wasn't no more'n muscle memory to whip out a stick and take care of it.

A burst of gunfire and more yelling from inside the supermarket made me smile.

I followed the two guys because they were heading in the most sane direction; out of sight of the supermarket lot, around the end of the building opposite, past the sign still claiming: 'The Best Coffee in Town'. Where the hell else you might have expected to get coffee in this fly speck on the map, I had no clue. Sure wasn't appetizing now, with the blood stains smeared across the lettering. Anyway, I'd checked the coffee shop first, it was picked clean. I didn't know why the supermarket had still had non perishables – hell, one of the registers had still had candy set out, for Chrissakes.

But then, not much about the world these days made any fucking sense.

"So, which way you heading, boys?" There was a reason they'd stopped by this particular pale blue pickup. Beat up bodywork but clean windows equaled 'driven real recent', to my way of thinking. I dug in my jacket pocket and offered them the M&Ms, just to keep lines of communication open.

Asiandude took one— _one!_ This guy was a cutie under the efficient stabbiness—but all I got from the other one was a glare like I was trying to poison him.

"What the hell was all that back there? You with that group?" he asked.

"Hey, didn't I just save your ass?" I snapped back. "You're welcome, by the way."

"We need to get going. Can we discuss it on the way?" Asiandude opened the driver's door. "I'm Glenn, that's Daryl. You are?"

I told him my name was Sarah. "And 'on the way' where? I need to find some gas and get back to my wheels."

Guns— _Daryl_ —growled at me, "Get in, then."

I gave him a level stare. "Get in yourself. I'mma sit by the door."

"The hell you are."

"Guys." Glenn nodded further along the back of the stores, where a dead 'un was now shuffling towards us from behind a dumpster. "It's okay," he said to me, "you can trust us."

"Oh, please. You think I don't know that?"

He blinked at me in surprise.

"I'm still sitting by the door. It'll be cozy. An' I wanna spot where I left my ride. It's just a coupla miles that way." I pointed the way the pickup was almost facing, past the burned out Post Office up ahead.

"Fuck that." Daryl dropped his bow into the flat bed and jumped on up himself. He waved away his friend's objection that he'd be safer inside, with a pointed glance at me. "Just for a coupla miles, right?"

I shrugged. "Give or take."

"I meant what I said." Glenn smiled, as we left the two-store Metropolis behind. "We have somewhere safe." He attempted a joke, "You don't have to worry about getting in the car with 'strange men'."

"Hell, I know plenty about strange men," I drawled, "getting in a car with 'em ain't even top five. 'Sides, I'd just tell your girlfriend if you put the moves on me."

That made him splutter.

I'd ducked off the road and through the trees, on my way into town, but I thought I was beginning to recognize landmarks when Glenn suddenly swung the truck onto a dirt lot fronting a couple of low buildings; an auto shop and a unit bearing the legend 'Hanson Pool Installation and Supplies.'

"This is what we were looking for," he explained. "The supermarket was a spur of the moment thing." He opened the door to climb out. "You wanna wait in the truck?"

" _Or not_ ," Daryl cut in from the window next to me, shooting him a look of disbelief; Glenn had left the key in the ignition. I guessed that usually that made sense. If the person carrying the key went down, everyone else would be stuck. Only this time, 'everyone else' didn't automatically mean people from their group.

I raised an eyebrow. "I look like a car thief?"

"Everybody's a car thief now."

"Well, yeah, but not from actual live people, I ain't." I shoved the door open, so he had to shift out the way. "An' you should probably get some help with your trust issues. For your information, me an' Glenn are like this—" I demonstrated twisted fingers. He narrowed his eyes and started for the building. I'd expected more come back, to be honest.

I pulled a stick out of my backpack and Glenn's curiosity got the better of him.

"Are they golf clubs?"

I showed him how the heads were filed off, sharp. "Yup. Some rich kid's pride an' joy, probably. Leather grips, light but strong." It was like carrying a bag of stakes that fit my hand perfectly. He nodded approvingly.

There were three dead 'uns inside, in total. The one that lurched right out of the door practically fell onto Daryl's knife, although its buddy was slow enough that Glenn had time to choose exactly when and at what angle to strike. Most likely they'd been inside since day one. Corpses trapped without any means of feeding tended to be the slower, weaker kind. That left one which was pinned under a fallen shelving rack. I took care of it anyway as it made a feeble grab for their legs while they searched the stock.

They grabbed some tubing and machine parts that they threw in the flat bed.

"Where are you guys holed up?" I demanded. Such specific shopping was a luxury.

"We need to ask you some questions," was Daryl's response, which made no sense.

I indicated the auto shop. "Can we see if there's any gas around, first?" The place wasn't shut up, like the repair unit, so I wasn't real hopeful. But there was no sign of corpses and the very first tarp that I pulled back revealed a can — half full.

"Hallelujah!" I grinned.

"Seconded!" Glenn had found an even fuller can. I couldn't help but be a little pissed at that. It seemed like they already had a real sweet set up, wherever they were living. I needed the gas more.

Back at the truck, I hesitated. "Look, I can walk from here. I appreciate the ride an' all—"

"You think we're leavin' ya, out here, alone?"

I stared at the archer. "I think it ain't your decision." _Or business._ "Boy howdy, Robin Hood. Just 'cause you can keep it up all day, don't mean every damsel's gonna fall for you." I raised my hands in imitation of his stance with the bow and winked at him.

Swear to God, the man had no sense of humor. He shook his head, like the subject was closed. "Nah."

"Excuse me?" I felt my hackles rise.

"Hey, why don't we get this to your car, and then you can follow us." Glenn held up his gas can. I didn't correct him, but I didn't argue neither. If I was getting all the fuel, I could put up with them a little longer. He let me direct him another half mile, until I was sure I knew where I was. The clearing was just a little ways back from the road.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me." Daryl stared at the Scrambler. I shrugged modestly. I wondered why they'd thought I was wearing a motorcycle jacket. Just this season's 'hot off the catwalk' anti-bite accessory, maybe.

I let them fill the tank for me. I was perfectly capable, I just preferred not to smell of spilt gasoline for days.

"We can put the bike in the truck anyway," Glenn suggested, "it's a long ride back to the prison."

"The _what now_?" I stared at them. They talked a little about how safe a place they had, without specifically saying where it was. But they didn't have no overnight gear with them, not that I'd seen. So, even if it was fucking Alcatraz, it was too fucking close.

"Need to ask ya, first, though," said Daryl. He looked right at me. "How many walkers you killed?"

"Counting those last ones? That was two for me, including the one back at the supermarket, right?" I challenged. "Well, I'm just checking, you might have short term memory issues, for all I know." I shot a smile Glenn's way as he chuckled, then continued, "I dunno. Mostly there's a few gets in the way, but I hide when I can." I was checking the 'bike as I talked. "I dunno how many _total_ , I lost count. Why'd you wanna know?"

"How many people you killed?" He ignored my question entirely. I wished he hadn't.

I stood up slowly, working out how to get the Scrambler between me an' them. Options.

"I been with people who died. Just got sick and died. I hadda...y'know."

Glenn wasn't smiling anymore and I figured he'd hadda do the same. 'Y'know' seemed so little, to cover what had to be done for people, to stop them from turning.

Daryl though, just repeated the fucking question, adding ' _actual live people'_ this time, in a mockery of what I'd said earlier.

My hand went slowly to my belt knife. "Personally? Just one."

"Why?"

I was on my toes now, knife out, backing away from the two of 'em. "You think I can't take care of myself? You think the fuckin' dead 'uns are the only threat out here? You tryin' to see if I'll stand up to you, or something?"

"No. Wait. Stop." Glenn spoke across the tension. "Sarah, it's just a way to find out what kind of people we're dealing with."

I hated that I hadda struggle to get my breathing back under control, to pull back from the fight or flight response that curdled my stomach. "So what's the right fucking answer? I ain't sorry I killed him. World's better off without."

He nodded. "Okay. That's okay."

"Well, thank you an' all, but I don't need your approval, sweetie." I climbed on the motorcycle and started the engine. She fired just perfect. Sometimes I fucking loved that machine. "You 'n Robin Hood can go on home. I ain't going that direction."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, tough crowd. :) My first time in the fandom, I'd really love some feedback. Is it worth continuing?**

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 **Season 5**

 **On the road to D.C. Pre Ep10, 'Them'**

Corpses come in all shapes, sizes and positions. It's gotten so that if it ain't moving, it don't even register most of the time. An' if it is moving, it most likely wants to get its teeth into you, so it's usually a 'shoot first, forget about the questions' kind of situation.

But what I wanted was to be noticed without the getting shot part. So, I figured sitting in the middle of the road and playing air guitar might be the way to go. Even these days, that ain't so common, for dead or un-dead.

Luck died a long time ago, along with half the world, so I wasn't thanking nothing in particular when I spotted the group and realized it was _them_. Wasn't down to luck anyways, that I knew they were safe enough—that was my own judgement, plain and simple. Wasn't the girlfriend right there, like I predicted? Not to mention the baby. An actual baby.

I shook my head, thinking about that damn teething toy. Fuck, but that seemed a long time ago.

Of course my own judgement back then had been to keep running, to not go with them, to their 'safe place', their prison. Maybe that didn't go perfect for me, but it had obviously gone tits up for them anyway, 'cause here they all were, strolling through the godforsaken countryside like some freaky post-shitstorm hiking group. I had to hope that running into them this time, things'd go a little better all around.

Not that I rushed it; I gave myself a little while to work out who was who. They never saw me, not until I wanted 'em to. Maybe I still didn't quite have the skinny on everyone, but I knew two things for sure; that baby wasn't Robin Hood's and neither was this group.

Someone else was most definitely in charge.

They noticed me. Well, the air guitar was a helluva signal.

The order to stop and stay back in the trees came from the bearded guy. That wasn't all he said, of course. When the advance guard—him, Asiandude with his babe in tow, plus the black chick with a big gun and the gingerish Sasquatch—drew close enough to see that I was truly fucking alive, they fanned across the tarmac in front of me and I paused mid strum.

"Oh. Hello." Glenn surprised himself by speaking. At least I must still look like me. Go figure.

"Hey yourself, sweetie with a sweetie. That her?" I nodded at his brunette, who was flanking him. Then couldn't stop myself winking at her. "You don't got nothin' to worry about, darlin'. Him an' me, it wasn't nothing but a onetime ride, right, sweetie?"

She frowned, he started to splutter, but I left him twisting and I swung back to the ice statue that was in charge and gave one last air lick:

"It's been driving me crazy, the intro to 'American Idiot', y'know what I mean? Can't get the song outta my head, but ain't sure I'm remembering it right."

It doesn't hurt to let people think you're a little loopy sometimes. Gentle crazy. Nonthreatening crazy. Let the 'Danger!' response die down a little.

He didn't even twitch. Well, he had a lot on his mind, this 'Rick'. I'd heard enough of 'em talking, to know who, as well as what, he was.

I gave him a tired smile and gestured over my shoulder. "You can tell Robin Hood to come on out. I ain't going nowhere." He'd sent the guy around through the trees, of course, to come up behind me. What else would make sense?

Daryl stepped out onto the road, but didn't lower his bow.

"Still keeping it up all day, darlin'?" I pretended to aim back at him.

"You know her?" Rick. Finally.

"We met her," Glenn responded, looking glad for the opportunity to explain. "Me and Daryl. Months ago. On a run. She wouldn't come back to the prison."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. How's that working out for y'all?"

"Are you alone?" Rick again.

I trailed my eyes over each of them in turn, then rested them back on him. His gun arm had relaxed a little, but his expression was still closed off. I shrugged. "I ain't seen a living soul in over a week, 'cept you guys." He blinked as I swallowed and went on: "I ain't with no one. I don't know no one. Not no more."

I took a long breath and climbed slowly to my feet. Make or break time. "So, you tell me. Am I alone?"

Back in the trees with the rest of the group, the baby let out a fussy squeal. Babydaddy was good at not reacting in front of strangers, I could see, real good, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

I started to lean down to my backpack, but froze as they all took a step closer. I held up my free hand and indicated my belt knife and golf clubs. "Ain't packing but what you can see, guys. Dead-stickers, 's'all I got. And this." I held out the small can of peaches. Held it out specifically to Rick. "You can mush these, I guess." The kid squeaked again, on cue. "For the kid. Babies need stuff mushed, don't they?"

He hesitated, then lowered his pistol as he reached out and took the can. "Thank you." I wouldn't say he was close to being out of suspicion, but things was moving nicely in the right direction.

He told me he had a couple of questions for me.

I let myself smile. "Wait. Lemme see if I can guess…"

"We already asked her," volunteered Glenn quickly.

Daryl snorted, speaking up for the first time. "Lot can happen in a coupla months."

 _Fuck, but you said a mouthful, Guns_. "True enough. Well, I still don't remember how many dead 'uns I put down. More'n last time. Obviously."

"And the living?" That was the babydaddy. Of course.

 _CarefulCarefulCareful_. I swallowed. "One more." I'd kept my face pointed at the dirt in front of my feet but I was aware of Daryl holding up two fingers for his boss to see. I decided I could risk a touch of truthful defiance. "Wouldn't be here myself, if'n I didn't. Simple as that. And we wouldn't be having all this fun, now would we? Can I get one on 'Oscar winning movies', next round? Or we all done with the questions?"

The brunette muttered, "Maybe not," under her breath, making Glenn grab her hand and squeeze it.

"Okay." There was no welcoming smile, but everyone else relaxed down a notch when the boss spoke. Of course that still left Daryl considerably tighter wound than the rest. The man sweated tension.

The group came back together and began the introductions as we walked along. I made an effort to put their real names to the right faces. Especially the ones I hadn't been able to work out from a distance.

"You hurting?" the older woman asked me, more suspicious than concerned. I was trying, and failing, not to limp. _Well, alright, Carol, I see you ain't no freaking den mother_. Luckily I ain't no girl scout.

"'S'just a muscle or somethin'. I ain't bit."

"Hamstring or calf?" The red headed dude spoke to me for the first time.

"Don't worry about it. I'mma keep up."

"Looks more like a twisted knee t'me." Daryl ghosted up from behind, passing us up easily.

"Well, ain't you the clever one," I snapped at his back. "Play a little football, Robin, what with your extensive knowledge of anatomy?"

"Nah," he threw the words back over his shoulder, "stalked a few lame deer though."

"Did you just compare me to food, you asshole?" For some reason that got way more group reaction than I could've anticipated. In particular, Sasha, in front, shot me a death stare and stomped off.

It fell to Glenn to quietly fill me in on what had happened at Terminus. And after.

"Shit." How the fuck was I supposed to know that? No wonder they was all so beaten down. "I mean, I saw those railroad signs. I mean…shit."

"You didn't follow them? Didn't head for Terminus?"

I shook my head. "Something seems too good to be true…Usually is. Was that way before and sure as hell don't seem like the world got any better lately. I been okay on my own."

"All the time?" Maggie asked skeptically.

"No. Not all the time."

Eventually, they stopped to camp by a small creek, barely more than a trickle. Everyone seemed to busy themselves with a task without needing to be told. Water, firewood, branches for shelter and a basic kind of fence all started to come together. Way to make the outsider feel useless.

I sat next to Rick, who was holding the baby against the slope of his knees, and asked him if I should be doing something.

"You need to rest that injury," was his answer. I nodded, then reached into my rucksack, emptying out three cans and a couple of bags of peanuts.

"We can share these. I know they won't go far. Maybe you wanna keep 'em for…the kid?"

"Judith. This is Judith." Rick was playing with the baby while talking. Yeah, I knew, but I didn't wanna seem like some kind of genius with names, right away.

"Oh, right. Judith. She seems…like...strong."

He shot me an amused look.

"Well, what're you s'posed to say about babies?" I said with a laugh and was genuinely surprised when Judith chortled back. "I ain't had much to do with 'em. I never even held one before."

Rick cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Here, learn a new skill." He passed the little girl over and she immediately made a grab for my necklaces. Rick half-smiled and went to help build the perimeter fence. He called out to the older kid, that he was to come back and mind Judith, so it wasn't like I was suddenly trusted babysitting material. Plus, he stayed within checking distance the whole time, which I totally expected; the teenager was let outta his sight as they travelled, but he always knew where the baby was.

When Judith started squirming, it kind of freaked me, like she was trying to leap from my grip. The fussing made me hold her tighter and she began to complain something fierce.

"Give her to me." Up rolled the world's grumpiest teenager and he took the baby off me in one swift scoop. He bounced Judith way higher than I would have thought safe, but she just chortled.

"You mind lookin' after her so much?" I stood up. Even though he was just a kid, I didn't like the looming over me.

"No. She's my sister."

"Yeah, but are you two like 'half' or 'step' related, or something?"

"No." He looked like he wanted to punch me more'n answer me.

"Sorry," I back tracked. "It's just that there's a big gap between y'all, I thought maybe—"

"I said, _no_. We had the same mom." The quiet words were forced through his gritted teeth. Ouch. I wasn't doing myself no favours there. Stupid. I was letting the whole deal throw me off. I needed to get a fucking grip.

Pay attention. Be careful.

I checked out the little group thoughtfully. I already knew there was no candidate even for the baby's mom, when I wasn't sure about the relationship with the kid. No one woman who claimed ownership, the way Rick did.

Of course, that didn't mean there wasn't some kind of connection I'd missed.

Maggie was obviously taken. That Rosita chick, too, if the attention that the redheaded guy gave her was anything to go by. Carol was...interesting. She'd been in Robin Hood's personal space enough that I'd given them a second look, but on balance I was pretty sure there was nothing going on there. And certainly not with Rick.

If I was making odds, I might've been worried about Sasha; the chick was hot and had major cajones, she'd make a good partner. But since Glenn had filled me in on what happened to her boyfriend...Fuck. The world was officially gone to shit.

That only left Michonne. Because the one that looked like a little doll was a dyke, if I wasn't mistaken. Might've been fun to test that, in other circumstances.

But Michonne might very well be the connection I hadn't found yet, seeing as there was no missing the kick-ass attitude that went with the sword, plus some very comfortable banter with the teenager, which seemed like it would be important to a family man and which I'd failed at miserably so far. Yeah. Michonne would bear some watching.

The men didn't hold no surprises; what I'd seen from a distance was pretty much what I still thought up close. I honestly wasn't sure what the goofy guy had to offer the group—maybe he juggled to amuse them, over dinner—but, like the priest, and the two kids, for my purposes he was a walking waste of space. Sweetie only had eyes for his sweetie, besides which he had 'second-in-command' written all over him. Similarly, Redhead looked like the kind of muscle that needed serious direction. And like everyone else, he took that direction from Rick.

That much had been obvious, even from a distance, as I followed them over the previous days.

Redneck Robin Hood, though. Yeah, pause for thought, right there. I watched as he came back to the camp site and set about inspecting his bow and arrows. There wasn't much in the way of small talk; he didn't even greet anyone. There was more going on there even than the general air of dejection that the whole group radiated. The strong, silent type. I tried not to smile. Couldn't deny the appeal of the guns, though, if I had to rest my eyes somewhere. Shame, in a way, that it was the babydaddy at the center of things.

"Are these yours?"

I jumped as the grey haired woman spoke to me, pointing at the cans.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. But I said," I gestured towards Rick, as he came back over to the fire, "use 'em for the kid, whatever."

Carol weighed the canned carrots in her hand. "We have some squirrel. We could make soup."

"Sure. Whatever," I said again, as Rick nodded. Carol slapped the can in my hand.

"Open it, then. I'll bring you the pot."

xxXxx

"You want some of this?" GI Jane was holding out a tube of something or other, in the light from the fire. I tried not to sound suspicious as I asked what it was and she was still smiling as she showed me. "It's ibuprofen gel. Figured it might help your knee."

"You a doctor?"

"Nah, just the walking first aid kit. This is good stuff though."

"You oughta keep it, then. I ain't so bad off." I was well aware that everyone else must be able to hear the conversation, even though there were at least two other topics being discussed quietly around the group.

She was smart enough. She nodded at the far side of the clearing. "Scoot over there, if you like. You don't have to lose your pants in front of everyone." She clicked on a pocket flash-light and held it out to me.

Options? My leg hurt like a bitch and would most likely seize up overnight. And I wanted to be part of the group, more important I needed to be seen as part of the group. 'Give and take' and all that shit. I was just finding the 'take' harder, which was weird. I told her thanks and accepted the gel and the flash light.

My belt felt like it was welded closed and my jeans had molded themselves to my legs, so it wasn't the quick operation I'd intended, even though I was only getting half undressed, dropping my pants as far as my knee. Rosita appeared at my side without I had a chance to cover up again, a bandage in her hand as she scooped up the flash-light from the dirt.

"Here. You wanna wrap—?"

Shit. She had a ringside seat. I knew why she'd stopped mid-sentence. Maybe she didn't know a twisted knee to look at, but no way she missed the bruise marking the perfect outline of a large boot print on my thigh.

I put the cap back on the tube and held it out. "Thanks."

She hesitated.

Pulling my jeans up, I kept my voice lower than low. "Ain't nobody following me, I swear. I took care of it. But—that's my business."

"Okay." There was something I couldn't quite identify in the look she gave me.

People were turning in, for as much as 'lying down where they'd been sitting' counted as going to bed. I'd been next to Rick while we ate, but that seemed a little too obvious. Careful. That was my watchword.

And truthfully, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to sleep, with so many people around. I scanned the tree canopy with regret, then made for a space near the dyke and Sasha. 'Cause that would make sense, I was a young woman caught up with strangers, I'd naturally gravitate to the other single chicks, wouldn't I?

Although, I'd made a quick reassessment of one of my assumptions; Rosita and Abraham weren't doing no spooning, so either I'd been wrong, or they were in the middle of some kind of tiff. She was the one keeping her distance, I thought. He was happily making out with a pint of something that wasn't water.

A coupla shots at that point woulda suited me nicely, but I wasn't about to blow my best—my _only_ decent—option for the sake of some off brand bourbon.

I lay on my back and cycled through my playlists. I wasn't so near Tara that the tapping would annoy her, although I kept it restricted to my thumb anyway as I tried to remember every beat of every song until I fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tiny bit of time shuffling in these next chapters, I'm stretching their time on the road, adding a couple of days between Daryl's...issues and when he spotted the barn.**

* * *

I knew I had all kinds of eyes on me in those first days, and it was easy enough to keep one step ahead of 'em, but I also knew they wouldn't cut me any slack unless their curiosity was satisfied. Plus, it was good to keep my skills up, so a little creepin' around wouldn't do no harm.

"You find what you were looking for?" I walked out of the trees and surprised them; Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Carol—and Tara for some reason—as they searched my bags. What interested them, of course, wasn't the back pack which had nothing but a couple of T shirts and my sticks, but the leather belt pouch I usually kept on me at all times.

Seriously, why did they think I would just up an' leave it, if not for them to investigate?

"We thought it might be food—"

"Fuck you. You know damn well I shared what I had."

Carol shrugged, not at all bothered at being caught lying. She held up one of the foil pill packs. "Maybe these are anti-psychotics. We have a right to know if you might be dangerous."

"Gimme a break. Why the fuck would they call 'em, 'Fem-' anything? They're birth control pills. I don't know about your little sorority, but I'd as soon not smell like fresh bait once a month."

Daryl in particular looked blank, so I took some delight in explaining: "Take 'em nonstop, don't get no periods. You know what that is, right? They had Special Ed. Biology in your school?" He looked away quick, but not before I saw he was suitably embarrassed.

"It's not good for you, to take those all the time," said Carol.

"Yeah? Well, neither is getting bit, so I guess I'll take my chances, if it's all the same to you."

"How did you even get hold of so many packs?" Poor Tara, she was the one looked the most guilty. Why she'd even been roped into the investigation, I had no clue. Maybe she was just there.

I shrugged. "Early on, most people who looted pharmacies were after more...recreational stuff. Then antibiotics and shit, once everyone figured out things weren't going back to normal. You can probably still find these, most places." When we'd cleared out the first couple of CVS's, it had been a reflex to grab these, I'd never truly imagined how long I'd be on the road.

Or that there might never be anything but 'on the road' ever again.

"So, that's it?" Rick was actually a little pissed with the others. Maybe.

"And..." Michonne had my iPod in her hand.

My lucky charm. I could feel the shape of it, ghost-like, in my palm, even while I could see it in hers. I refused to let my fingers twitch towards it.

"Damn," I drawled. "Must've left the power adapter somewhere."

Rick studied me. "You really don't have a gun?"

"I really don't. Wouldn't be much good, if'n I did. I got crappy aim." I shrugged.

Rick took the bag from Carol and handed it over to me, iPod an' all.

"You only hadda ask." I went for 'half sad, half disappointed'. So, I didn't get an official apology. No sweat. I was happy to let 'em stew on their new information. I just waited until they were all somewhere else before I transferred the other stuff from my pockets, back to the pouch.

xxXxx

I never had no use for girlfriends, so I wasn't taking it personal that Maggie was givin' me the cold shoulder when we walked. And walked. Sure, back in the day, I'd've had no problem mouthing off to any chick who thought she could give me grief. Hell, I put more'n one skank on her ass without thinking twice. But 'thinking twice' was 'thinking smart' these days. Cat fighting was definitely not the way to go.

The truth of the matter was, without the Scrambler and with my knee screwed, buddying up was my best and safest option, at least short term. Still, I needed to do something to make sure everyone else thought so too. Besides which, despite Maggie's protective streak coming out, the poor guy was only being friendly. Besides _besides_ which, 'friendly' from him wasn't the most use to me these days.

So when he offered me some of his water and started up a conversation, I waved Glenn on.

"You go ahead, I gotta…" I dropped to one knee and fiddled with my boot lace, until he was up ahead back with Maggie, and a couple more of them had gone past. Someone stopped though. I looked up at Rick and smiled to acknowledge that he'd caught me faking a stop.

As I stood up, I told him quietly that Glenn was too nice for his own good. "Not that I don't appreciate it an' all. Just trying not to piss off his old lady."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think she really thinks..." He kept his voice low, on account of the kid sleeping in her carrier-thing, slung on his chest. Must have been like an engine rumble for her. I told him it was hella ironic anyway, for Maggie to think I'd been after her man.

" _He_ ain't my type, plus—" I explained about the teething ring deal, back when I first met Glenn and Daryl.

"You do know his actual name, then?" He looked way different when he let himself smile.

"Robin Hood? Yeah. Don't tell _'_ im. 'S'way more fun to get under his skin."

 _Daryl had finally snapped, earlier that morning, and called me on my nickname for him, even though I hadn't used it more'n a coupla times to his face._

 _"_ _Christ Almighty, Robin Hood didn't carry no crossbow," he'd growled, "don't you know nothing? Longbow's completely different."_

 _"_ _Aw, 'crossbow', 'longbow'...You say 'tomato', I say—'who gives a fuck'," was my response, which seemed to piss him off all the more. Got me an appreciative nod from the redhead, though._

Rick chuckled. More engine rumbling. "So, it was Judith who convinced you to trust us?" They didn't have the teething toy no more; if we passed any kind of store, I was going to keep my eyes open.

"Sure. And like I said, Maggie herself. I mean, the fact of Glenn having a girl he cared about. I figured he was good people."

"Yeah." He was weighing that up, but not asking outright. "Plenty of other types of people on the road these days."

I swallowed. "Yeah."

My gramma had this saying, when she shivered unexpected, 'Someone musta walked on my grave', which never did make no kind of sense to me when I was a kid. Didn't exactly help to think about it these days, what with all the walking being done by folks who shoulda been in their own fucking graves.

Rick glanced over at me again and I made an effort to be normal. Changed the subject back. No one else was near enough to hear me. "But it kind of sucks, seeing how Glenn's the only one who really talks t'me. I guess I get it, I don't know y'all an' you don't know me. Don't have no reason to trust me."

"No…" he said slowly. "It's not that. We're just…Everyone's kind of…It's been a bad few weeks."

"I get that. But I wouldn't know why, if Glenn didn't tell me." I shrugged. "Ain't trying to get in y'all's business, just don't wanna piss people off without meaning to." I risked a small smile and was rewarded with one back. I told him I was worried that I had upset Carl, because I asked about his mom. "Shit. I probably did it again. Sayin' that to you. I'm sorry." I was pleased that he tried to tell me it was okay. "This is just kind of an amazing situation, you having a baby out here. I mean, you're kind of ama—" I shut up real sudden, making my apparent embarrassment all the clearer. "You think this weather's ever gonna break?"

Rick was kind enough to play along. He even looked at the sky, like he was properly considering his answer. "I hope so."

xxXxx

Another of my gramma's sayin's was that 'Eavesdroppers don't never hear no good about themselves'. To my way of thinking, that ain't a problem; if people like you, they usually show it. It's the back stabbing bastards you wanna keep tabs on.

There wasn't no set plan to each day's walking, not really. People came and went, depending on if they were looking for water, or hunting, or whatever. Add in piss stops and the like an' it wasn't unusual for the group to be in two or three smaller sections, along the same stretch of road.

No one hadda ask permission. No one got told not to wander off.

I wasn't even doing the eavesdropping deliberate. I was honestly finding that being around so many people was screwing with my head; I needed a spell of not thinking. I also needed to see if my knee was getting any better and I didn't want an audience when I tested it. It was so quiet, up high, even the breeze in the leaves wasn't hardly nothing. Although it was blessedly cooler up there. I wanted to stay as long as I possibly could, just to keep the feeling of having the world to myself again.

They didn't know I'd spied on them before 'bumping into' the group. I hadn't even talked about tree climbing with any of them. So, it was no surprise that, when the two of them walked underneath the big old oak I'd scaled, they didn't look up.

"I'll tell ya what she is, she's a goddamn hustler." I heard, clear enough. And, yeah, I could've let them know I was there, but sorry, Gramma, I wasn't gonna lose the opportunity. 'Cause who the fuck else were they talkin' about?

Daryl didn't get no argument from Carol, although she told him there wasn't much he could do. About me. He muttered something about talking to Rick, or the way that _I_ was talking to Rick.

"Oh, what makes you think he doesn't notice? Whether he likes it is a whole other question." Carol sounded pissed, but I couldn't tell if it was specifically with Rick, or Daryl. Or men in general.

There was an indistinct mumble that may or may not have been him agreeing. Plus something about my 'type' and someone called Merle. Well, fuck you, Daryl, and fuck whoever Merle is too. _My type_? You ain't even seen me in action yet. _Watch and learn, Guns, watch an' learn_.

Without leaning too far, I could see down through the leaves, enough to make out when Carol shrugged. "We don't have to trust her. But unless she does something way off, I don't see what we can do, apart from watch her."

Once again, whatever he said in reply was muffled. Christ, the man practically had his own language.

"I'm going back," said Carol decisively. "Try and catch something worth eating, please."

And then I truly was 'treed' for a good few minutes, as Daryl fiddled with his crossbow, making adjustments then putting it back exactly how it had been. Or at least it seemed that way to me. He sat motionless for a while, until I got to wondering if he was hoping a rabbit was just gonna come up to him, Snow White-style. Christ, I half expected him to get around to taking a leak as well and put me firmly in the 'peeping Tom' category.

But what he did was to shrug off his shirt and use it to wipe his face. When he tucked it into his waistband and set off, following some trail or other, I had a perfect view.

xxXxx

I guess it says something about what it is to be human, that walking for hours and hours is so fucking boring that crossing paths with the odd dead 'un actually breaks up the day.

Even stopping for a while for 'lunch' didn't get anywhere near interesting, because half of 'em barely spoke and the rest were too tired to make decent conversation.

For what it was worth, at least I seemed to have allies now apart from Glenn, in Rosita and Tara. Also, Abraham had winked at me, when I took out a corpse that was sitting in a car we investigated. Plus, the sideways looks from Maggie were tailing off. Fuck, she was my new BFF, compared to Carol. The other woman still had a bead on me, any time I looked her way. Most times she had a little mirror in the kid too; he was one adolescent scowl away from pissing me all the way off, which was annoying seeing as I needed him on side.

I put on a real pleasant tone and tried to make conversation with him. Again.

"Why don'tcha tell me the story of how come you're wearin' that hat? You're kinda young for drunk scavenger huntin'. You get it off a dead 'un?" I remembered a beat too late to say 'walker' like they all did.

A couple of people snorted and Carl himself looked at me like I just crawled up out the swamp. Rick had this real strange expression, like he didn't know whether to smile or not.

"What?" I challenged.

Rick stared me out, still chewing on his lip like he was trying to stop himself reacting.

" _What_?" I repeated, looking at each of 'em.

"It was Dad's," Carl finally said, every word overloaded with acid.

For a second I did have the idea that it had been Rick who'd lifted the fucking thing, either from a dead 'un, or before, then I worked out why they all thought the question was so damn funny.

I fought down the instinct to run. Different times. Other times. The world was not the same. Law and order no longer existed. 'Now', not 'then'. 'Was' not 'are'.

I forced a grin onto my face. " _You_? You was a cop?" He nodded, a smile finally crinkling his eyes.

"Did you not have him pegged?" asked Glenn slyly. "And him looking like a perfect example of Georgia's finest."

"Hell, I thought I had y'all pegged," I grin, grin, grinned. "Figured you was a circus troupe, an' this was y'all's dancing bear…" I reached out and tugged Rick's beard. His eyes went about a mile wide. I google-eyed him back and growled. Like a bear.

Suddenly they were all laughing. Including him. Well, not all. I appeared to have killed Carl stone dead, for all the movement in his face.

Later, I noticed Rick rubbing his chin thoughtfully. When his eyes caught mine, he smiled. And growled. Like a bear.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:The bridge and Daryl's incident are out of order. I'm aware. :)**

* * *

Biding my time was something I was hella good at. But I wasn't sure how much time I had to play with. When it came down to it, it was pointless having simple patches like Tara on my side, if the vice presidents were lined up against me. I knew who Rick listened to, whose opinions counted with him—for instance, if Michonne took into her head to badmouth me, I was pretty sure I'd be toast. Waiting for that to happen wasn't an option, and neither was letting Carol and Daryl stew on what they thought about me.

They'd been off again by themselves during the afternoon, 'hunting', although she came back first and there was nothing to show for the time they put into it. Seriously, if they didn't both look like a decent screw would do 'em good, I'd have been convinced that's what they were up to.

I really needed some kind of play, as far as they were concerned. But in the meantime, I offered to help with 'dinner', figuring it'd put me in contact with people I didn't know so well yet, make me look helpful, make me look like part of the group.

It wasn't like they was well equipped. No proper camping stuff, no spoons and bowls, or nothing. There was one big ol' can that was used for heating 'soup', until water got too scarce, and a few smaller ones that everyone shared, passing them around like cups, making the most of whatever canned goods they had left. With every non-meal the lot of 'em turned quieter, more desperate. And maybe this was the worst I'd had it, on the road, but some of 'em acted like they'd never gone this hungry in their lives. At all. Useless Eugene for example, and the priest, I swear, they looked surprised every time there wasn't a full on a la fucking carte menu.

I was thinking on that, as I passed the can of string beans to Daryl.

And I did something beyond dumb. He reached for it left handed, I jumped back and dropped the can. The handful of beans rolled in the dirt.

"Hell's your problem, you stupid bitch?" he roared, leaping to his feet.

It kicked off quite a reaction, ironically exactly the kind of thing I'd have hoped for, if I'd planned it, because Rosita immediately told him to quit yellin' at me. Tara backed her—and me, I guess—as did Abraham, and even Glenn and Rick was all 'Chill, man'. Carol joined in, although I figured out afterwards that they was calming Daryl down, not defending me. But not until I had space to think it through.

Daryl picked up the fuckin' beans and ate 'em anyway.

All I was capable of doing was to sit down trying to become invisible; one stupid reflex action didn't mean nothing. I stuck my hand inside my pocket, gripping my iPod until it hurt, and running through the list of tracks in my memory.

xxXxx

The next morning I was wound about as tight as possible, on account of not sleeping a wink. Even before the thing with Daryl, I'd started to think that being around people was causing my dreams to get worse, instead of making me feel safer. There wasn't no way I was having a full blown nightmare in front of whoever was on watch. And there would always be someone else on watch, they didn't trust me enough yet, to let me take a spell by myself. I was cool with that, could live with being on probation a little longer—screw being on watch, the real test would be if I ever got to look after the baby on my own, I reckoned.

As everyone set off, I said I'd shadow the route a little ways into the trees, 'cause they were kind of close together and the road was climbing, so we might miss something down the hillside. And I guess that was even true, although what I really wanted was to get some headspace to myself.

But it wasn't long before down-slope rustling in the bushes saw me with a dead-sticker in my hand, ready. Only, it was Daryl who appeared and curled his lip at me, as I shoved my weapon away, irritated an' then some.

"Think I was a walker?" he sniffed.

"I think you're a sick fuck, is what I think," burst out of me.

He narrowed his eyes.

"I ain't kiddin'. You can stay the fuck away from me—" I spun on my heel, but didn't get anywhere, because he grabbed my arm. I yelped, in surprise— _fucking yelped, like a trod on puppy._ What the hell was wrong with me?—and he dropped my arm like it was hot.

It took everything I had to pull my breathing back towards calm.

Daryl looked about as shocked at my reaction as I felt, to be honest. I guess he thought he hurt me, when he was just trying to stop me leaving. I knew that. _I knew it_. I was not afraid. I would not be afraid.

"What're you talking 'bout?" he asked, genuinely confused.

I gestured. " _That_. That ain't even..." I watched as he turned his hands over, looking at the dirty battered knuckles, the ragged nails, without understanding. "Jesus Christ, you don't even remember doing it?" I grabbed his hand, jabbing at the cigarette burn. Then I dropped it just as quickly and stepped back.

Calm. I needed calm. There was an option here, there must be.

He froze. I think if he could have put his hand in his pocket, without it being obvious, he would've. As it was, he pulled it back against his side. "You don't know nothing about it."

"Me? _I_ don't..." The words jumped out of me. _Calm_. "Just stay away from me."

"That why you threw my food at me? Where the hell do you get off, woman? You don't know me, you don't know nothin' about me."

Bizarrely I wondered if that was the longest speech he'd ever made to me. It was certainly one of the very few times he'd actually looked me in the eye.

But I'd done it. I'd fought my breathing down and way past calm, by then. I was in some other space. And suddenly there was an option. It was so fucking obvious, I shoulda knocked myself upside the head for not thinking of it immediately. Because I _did_ know something about him. Okay, it was also downright risky, since it was the reason for me freaking out in the first place, but it would be worth it...

" _This_ ," I told him, shrugging off my shirt and twisting my shoulder towards him. " _This is what I know about it_." I stretched the strap of my vest top down, so he could see the whole tattoo clearly. See how it went up the back of my right arm and down across my shoulder blade. See that—although the trailing stem was completely invented by the ink artist who did the work, thorns an' all—the center of each small rose was the exact size and shape of a cigarette burn. Almost, but not quite disguised. Not to anyone who knew what they were looking at.

Some tattooists wouldn't even work on scars, because the results couldn't be guaranteed. I'd found one who did it for the challenge as much as the money.

It was so quiet, I swear I heard Daryl swallow.

I scrabbled my shirt back on. Turned around. "Excuse me if I don't think of being a human ashtray as a fuckin' lifestyle choice." Damn, but I'd intended that to have a more sarcastic bite.

He looked like he'd been iced over. Pale even, like he was gonna hurl. "It ain't." I think that's what he said, it wasn't exactly clear.

"Sorry. I didn't mean…to lay that on you." My lips were dry enough that I had to lick them. "It just freaked me, I guess, that you would do that for kicks."

"Jesus, no…"

"Then what the hell?"

"Too much." Again with the mumbling, and now with even less sense.

"What? Too much what?"

He shrugged, managing to combine embarrassment and inability to explain.

"I figure you can pretty much rely on other people to do the hurtin'," I told him quietly. "You don't gotta hurt yourself as well."

For a second, it looked like he was gonna say something about that, but he just closed off and gruffly told me that he'd checked out the woods for about a mile and I should go back to the group; there was nothing out there. And he walked away.

xxXxx

Jesus Fucking Christ.

I punched the tree trunk. _Get a fucking grip, stupid_.

It was my decision to show him the scars, dammit. I was in control of that option, whatever crazy semi-revelation it'd come out as. It was useful, that was all. Means to an end. _Hey, Guns, we got something in common, apart from the hick accent..._ It wasn't like I'd forgotten they were there. I swiped angrily at my eyes. When the fuck was the last time I cried? The last time I let myself cry?

"Sarah? You okay?"

My head jerked up; I hadn't even heard Rick, hadn't even noticed him come close. Woulda fucking well served me right to have a dead 'un up in my face right now. Stupid. _Stupid_.

"Sorry, didn't mean to intrude," he muttered, uncomfortable-like.

"'S'all good," I lied, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "Just...y'know." _Think._

Rick had this real freaky stare, like he was reading minds, or something. Like anyone would need that, on top of their own damn shit these days. He nodded, real slow. "We're gonna find something, somewhere, soon."

"It ain't that." _Don't think you have to baby me_. "I know you will."

"Old stuff, then? Creeps up on ya, sometimes. On all of us. There can't be anyone left who hasn't had to fight to be here. Bound to leave you with some baggage." Okay, sympathy, but he wasn't writing me off as no candy ass. I could work with that.

"Well, I'm done with it." I put some steel into my voice. "I won't—" _I can't. I don't never_ "—let it back in my head. There ain't time for looking back, not now. 'Now' is just for getting through. That make sense?"

"Yeah...Makes sense."

I stood up straighter. "Forget what you just saw, okay."

For a split second I thought he was going to hug me. When he went still, like that, it seemed it was fifty-fifty if he was gonna kiss or kill; he was a walking knife edge. But all he did was hold out his water bottle, to share. "Okay, then."

I hoped that if I kept it together over the coming days, he'd believe me. Or at least, see that I was strong enough to deal with the odd blip. Maybe that'd be okay; I didn't wanna seem like some robot, or nothing.

And as it turned out, maybe it was worth losing it briefly, 'cause it turned out to work just fine.

xxXxx

The bridge wasn't nothing, but the dead fuckers were stupid as stupid comes and the first few barely needed pushing. One walked right off the edge, all I had to do was step aside. If anyone had the energy left, this was going to turn out to be a 'high-fives all round' kind of deal, in about two minutes flat.

Then I saw Sasha start moving towards 'em; no need, no need at all. They were coming to us, like fucking sheep.

"Rick? What the fuck is she doing?" I snapped. Rick glanced across at her, called out to Michonne to back Sasha, because she was breaking the whole plan and putting herself where she could be swarmed. Abraham started swearing, and everyone ended up having to move up and dance with the dead 'uns, knives out.

They were nearly all down. All of them. One got lucky is all, following in close behind a couple that Glenn and Rick took down—getting a grip on Rick's arm, teeth closing in, and I was almost there, only a step away, but it was a step I couldn't make in time, when Daryl appeared out the tree line and swung the fucker away and down.

Rick got his balance back and Daryl caught my eye. He gave me a quick nod, but I didn't deserve it; I wasn't there in time. If he hadn't reached Rick, I wouldn't have been there in time.

I stared at Sasha as she walked away, like fucking butter wouldn't melt in her fucking mouth.

But when everyone was back together again, I got the pay off from both my conversation with Daryl and what he thought he saw at the bridge. I didn't hear what Carol said about me, but people can't help them tiny looks they give you when they're talking 'bout you. Especially if they're talking shit. Daryl's body language was pretty clear, though, when he shook his head at her and for once I heard him clearly; as he walked away from her, he said, "Maybe we got it wrong. Maybe you oughta lay off her."

xxXxx

Tara was the easiest target. I knew I could get her to talk.

"What gives with Sasha?"

I knew a little more already, knew for instance that Maggie hadn't been blanking me, like I'd thought, because I'd teased her about me an' Glenn hooking up. She was pretty much blanking everyone, due to her grief. While we'd been walking earlier, Tara had filled me in on the way Maggie's sister had been taken down, how recent it was. Sad to say, it wasn't the fact that it had happened that surprised me; the world was what it was these days. But that was the first time I realized they all hadn't been together for the duration. Some of 'em, Tara included, hadn't ever lived in the legendary safe-haven, their prison. That was good, for me. Proved they could take in outsiders.

I'd asked Tara what the sister was like—I was imagining another Maggie—which is when she'd explained she never even knew her.

"They were all split up, after what happened. Beth was with Daryl, until she got taken. But, they way they all were, losing her...I think she was like everyone's kid sister."

Interesting. But I figured she was wrong. As least as far as Daryl went. I knew 'screwed up' when I saw it.

Now I pressed her for details on Sasha. I had to know how dangerous she was. "So, that's what gives with Sasha? She was close with this Beth, too?" On top of the boyfriend going out the way he did, I guessed it could account for her fucking death wish. I never had a sister, but I thought Maggie was tough enough, her sister was probably the same, whatever Tara thought. She an' Sasha might've been a team. Not that it would excuse Sasha putting anyone else in harm's way, like she did at the bridge.

Tara shrugged. "I don't know, maybe. But losing her brother hit her hardest."

That made even less sense to me, than Daryl being so cut up over some chick he supposedly wasn't banging. So Sasha was free of her brother, so what?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm thrilled that this is picking up faves and follows, thank you so much. :)**

* * *

 _"It'll just make it worse."_

I heard Tara's comment and everyone's, mostly silent agreement, and I knew exactly why it made sense; booze was a sure fire guarantee for amping up dehydration. But I was still afraid that if I looked at Abraham, sitting just the other side of the tree from me, I would ask for a drink. I could smell it, every time he unscrewed the cap. I could hear him swallow. Every time.

Christ, someone couldn't have left an old bottle of root beer in that last knot of abandoned cars? Some supermarket brand cola? Mountain Dew?

I stood up, even though we were taking a rest. Even though we would most likely end up staying the night in this spot, by this roadside, and no one had the energy or inclination to move at all. Let 'em wonder, I just needed to be somewhere else.

Everyone tensed as the bushes rustled, over the other side of the road. Too fast a movement for walkers, that much was already obvious in the split second before the dogs appeared, growling and slobbering. People moved, I knew it, Rick, Daryl, but it was in my peripheral vision as I lunged forwards and ripped Judith out of Carl's arms. It was Sasha, though, who solved the problem; her and her freakish aim.

Rick turned away from the dead dogs, automatically checking the kids, and his eyes went stone cold crazy when he saw Carl empty handed. "Where's Judith?" Everyone's gazes went up, as Carl pointed at me. I was only a coupla branches high, but just above all their heads. The adrenaline was leaving as quick as it'd shot through me and I felt kind of shaky. One arm around the tree trunk and one arm around the baby suddenly didn't seem enough.

"Somebody wanna take her?" I leaned forwards and Rick moved quickest and reached up with both hands. Judith liked the game and kicked her legs as he took her.

"What the hell?" he said, real quiet. Just to me. With a look that was as near a smile as dammit.

"Dogs." I swung down to the ground. My knee hardly hurt at all.

Tara snorted. "And you thought _we_ were in the circus?" She wasn't the only one studying the tree, the spacing of the branches. And me. Daryl even nodded to himself, like he'd solved some puzzle. I should've slid down the trunk, climbed down somehow, I guess, but it really wasn't that high and I'd been dropping from branches like that so long, I didn't even think about it no more.

"You should've seen her go up," Carl added to Tara's comment. He'd been the only one facing me when I'd gotten Judith out of the danger. Or what I thought was danger. Stupid. Like any one of 'em would've let those animals get to her.

Later, sitting with a piece of meat in my hands, I realised Tara had been talking to me, while I stared off into the flames.

"I know it's weird," she was saying softly, "but it's only meat. You need to eat."

I glanced at my hands. "I know," I reassured her. "I was just thinkin'." I bit into the warm chunk of dog.

xxXxx

A couple of days later, Daryl dropped down into a crouch, talking quietly to Rick. "Shit's getting real, man, if we don't find something soon…"

"I know." I watched as Rick swept his eyes over the dejected group.

"Lemme scout out a bit further. Y'all stay put for another while. Thinkin'…I could take Sarah." For some reason he glanced at me as he made the suggestion to Rick, but shrugged and looked away as he spoke to me. It was like all his social cues were skewed. "You ain't as wore out as some of the others," was his justification for why I oughta go.

I trekked after him, into the woodland. Rick was worried and rightly so. Half of those people were on their last ounce of energy. Possibly sanity. Washington D.C. might as well have been fucking Mars.

If I hadda put a timeframe on it, I reckon it was over an hour before Daryl spoke. We'd come upon a dead 'un, and it was stuck in a split tree trunk, waving so feeble-like we didn't even have to be careful.

"You could leave it," I said. "I don't think it's gonna come after us."

"Nah." Daryl stabbed it in the forehead. "Sometimes they get lucky."

We'd been climbing, the forest floor taking us steadily up. I paused, catching my breath. "What're you lookin' for? I ain't seeing nothing," I complained. More or less 'wore out' was relative. I was hungry and thirsty. I hadn't seen a decent trail since we'd set out and I didn't believe Daryl was following one, neither.

The previous day I'd asked him to come look at what I thought was tracks. I don't know what freaked him out more, that I spoke to him direct or that I was right.

"Well?" I'd demanded—in a whisper.

Daryl had nodded, still looking at the marks in the dirt, not me. "Uh, huh. 'S'pig. Little 'un."

"Fuck, who's being picky 'bout size?"

He squinted at me. "I ain't said it ain't worth hunting down. How come you can see it, but you ain't gone after it?"

I shrugged. "With what, this?" I touched my belt knife. "I ain't stupid, Robin Hood, you got the only chance of catching it."

"Can you use one of these?" He didn't make no move to hand over the crossbow, not that I was surprised. I guessed he was just curious.

"Nah. Can't hit nothin' smaller than a barn with a gun, neither." He already knew I didn't have one to my name.

"What idiot taught you t'track an' not shoot?"

I chewed my lip. "He didn't know he was teaching me. He was teaching someone else, I was just...watching. Spyin' on 'em, I guess."

"He wasn't much of a hunter, then, if'n he didn't know you was there."

"Wasn't much of anything, tell the truth. Who taught you?"

"My brother. But mostly me, by practice."

"Yeah, well, I never could get my hands on the weapons, so..." I pointed at the tracks. "'S'all yours."

But whatever size the pig was, he never found it. I guessed that was why he'd gone to Rick that morning, offered to go out even further than usual. And dragged me along.

He stopped, taking a deep slow breath before replying to my question about what exactly we were doing.

"Thinkin'...if we can see over the next valley, it'd save ev'ryone walking that way. If there ain't nothing there..."

I rubbed the sweat off my face. "That's what you think? There ain't nothing?"

"D'you?"

"I don't think there's a town gonna pop up miraculous. We ain't been on more'n back roads. Don't think many people lived out this way, at all."

He nodded, just the once.

Shit. If that was true…No towns, no stores, no nothing. We were screwed.

And when we crested the hill there was just more trees to see. We stood, breathing heavy. Daryl looked up at the tree behind me. And back at me.

"Are you kidding? Is that why you fucking brought me?" I stared at him. "I don't believe you! Why don't you climb the fucking—?" A short laugh burst out of me. "You're afraid? Of heights?"

"I ain't."

"Go on then," I gestured at him. "Get on up."

"Ain't no sense in two people gettin' treed. One of us oughta keep watch down here."

I snorted. Yeah, right. But I checked out the nearest trees, settling on a huge old oak, Dropping my bag and jacket at the base of the trunk, I took a running jump and hoisted myself onto the lowest branch. "So, you're watching my stuff, right?" I asked, sarcastically. Daryl leaned back on another tree, arms folded.

It only got tricky after about twenty feet; before that it was practically like going up stairs. As high as I got, there were still a few taller oaks along the slope. But I could see for miles. Miles of trees. Blue sky, green leaves.

I never thought on the vapour trails that used to cut the sky into pieces, not until they weren't there no more.

"Anything?" came up to me through the leaves.

I called down, "You don't know what you're missing, Daryl…what's your other name?" I waited for him to shout back. "You don't know what you're missing, Daryl Dixon!" I'd never had that experience before, someone to talk to when I was up high. I wasn't even being sarcastic. He oughta see the view, have the feeling that the world was calm, spread out like that all peaceful, with none of the shit that went on at ground level visible. No people in sight.

"You see any rivers? Any water?"

I started down.

When I dropped onto the forest floor he snapped at me, "How come you didn't answer?"

"You pissed at me? 'Cause I yanked your chain? I was only kidding. Everyone's afraid of something. You saw how I feel about dogs, didn't ya?"

"I ain't pissed. And I ain't afraid of nothing. Wanna know if you saw anything, is all."

Right. "I didn't see no rivers." My voice sounded dull. "No rivers. No lakes, no nothin'." I wanted nothing more than to sit down and stay in one place.

"Fuck."

"Yeah." I roused myself and grabbed up my jacket. "I saw a clearing, way over that way. Maybe we should check it out." Downhill. It would be in front of where we left the others, maybe we'd come out on the road ahead of them.

xxXXx

 _"There's a barn."_

The wind was picking up something fierce by the time we got everyone back to the clearing Daryl and I had scouted earlier. With the rain pounding down, I doubted we'd have heard a fucking marching band inside, so checking it out was more than obvious.

Maybe if I tried I'd be able to remember sometime when you could walk into a place, any place, without thinking twice. Maybe.

Maggie opened a door off to one side. The walker inside was only a crawler. Who knew how long it'd been there. Maggie was slow to take out her knife. This last day or so, everything she did was slow, like she was operating on some other time level.

I put my hand on her arm, as she hesitated over the clawing corpse."'S'okay. I got it." I barely had to press, the skull was so soft. Maybe it'd been there since the beginning. The barn was kind of isolated.

"She had a gun."

Yeah, but how many people were there staggering about like rotten meat nowadays, who hadn't had the balls or the sense to do themselves in at the last moment? I backed away as Carol came up to Maggie, said something about people, about _them,_ not giving up. I wondered about that. If Maggie sank any further into her depression, she'd be a burden on Glenn and everyone else. I had yet to see Useless or the god-botherer make any kind of kill. A group this worn out could only carry so much dead wood. On top of that, maybe we'd been lucky and not come across too many dead 'uns in one pack, but if we did and Sasha pulled another kamikaze stunt, I didn't wanna be on her side of the action.

Maybe the balance of my options was changing.

I figured I'd haveta to see out the storm, before making any decisions. I wasn't fool enough to strike off into the dark and the rain. But that didn't mean I hadda play happy fucking families, not when we had space. The stairs to the hay loft were rickety, but I made my way up there, sat with my legs dangling over the edge, watching the members of the group find corners for themselves.

"You staying up there, Tarzana?" asked Tara, with a smile. I shrugged at her.

"Maybe. You people creep me out, with your sleeping on the ground."

Glenn peered up. "Is that how you managed on your own? You slept in _trees_?"

I smiled.

Rick paused underneath me. "Safer together." Tonight? Or was that a more general observation? C'mon, dude, gimme something to work with.

I asked him to pass me the battered cookpot can, before I came down. "There's a leak up here like a faucet on full. Might as well get some more of this rain." I understood his caution, over the mysterious supply of water bottles that had just showed up on the road, and why we hadn't touched 'em. Hell, I could forgive full blown paranoia, if it kept me alive another day—although I'd have been hella tempted myself, to let Useless be the guinea pig, like he wanted. I had no clue why it was so important to Abraham that Eugene not be poisoned, why he'd stopped him, but I did understand that group safety was top of Rick's priorities. But that didn't mean I wasn't still thirsty.

Rick only needed to climb part way up the ladder-like steps to hand me the can. "Wasn't tryin' to tell you what to do," he muttered. "You sleep where you want." Ah. _But don't everyone do what you tell 'em to, Sheriff? What makes me so different...or different enough, that you don't wanna seem bossy?_

There was a long second where he didn't let go the can and I didn't take it away.

xxXxx

I listened to him, later, from my perch, as they sat around the fire. Heard him say that maybe it was better for kids growing up nowadays, 'cause they were learning to get adjusted to the world—any world—anyhow.

I glanced over at the kid; he was sleeping, holding Judith. That didn't freak me out quite as bad as it first did, when I saw him with her so much. Not now I'd seen how everyone was with her. I didn't think it was what Rick meant, but I thought that little girl would be okay. She wouldn't ever be alone, is why. Alone with one person, I mean. Growing up in a group, always having people check on where you were, if you were alright, that would be good for her. She'd be safe.

 _"We do what we need to do and then we get to live."_

I guess I did make sense to him, that day, when I said 'now' was just for getting through.

There was a whole lot of shit I had never let in, pushed it away as just something I was getting through. That was how things worked best. That was why there was always another option out there, to get you through and past and onto the next thing. Daryl though, I don't think he got it. He walked away from the fire, from the conversation. And maybe that was what we didn't have in common; maybe he hadn't never got through his shit. Maybe he was still living it, somehow.

I really wanted to go down there, to sit round the fire, but I couldn't make myself do it.

If I hooked my leg around one of the uprights at the edge of the loft, it was almost like a branch. Like sleeping in a tree. Keeping part of my brain alert, to stop myself falling off, that felt more natural to me than curling up on the ground. It meant I woke, every now and then, but that was okay; that stopped the dreams.

Everyone was sleeping, despite the storm raging on. Well, not everyone. Daryl must have been on watch, because as I half woke and shifted slightly to ease my knee, I saw him pace the length of the dirt floor. _Jeez, you ain't a fuckin' soldier on guard, Guns._ But there was something off about the way he acted next. It was like he was pushing on the door, the door that had already been shut. And held shut with a chain.

I was all the way awake and dropping off the edge of the hayloft before I had time to think, reaching the barn door at the exact same time as Maggie, one of us either side of Daryl as he dug his feet in and shoved back against the door.

I heard _them_ , this close, even over the wind and the rain, the thunder and lightning, I heard 'em outside. How many must there be, to be that noisy over the sound of the storm?

More people were waking up. Realizing what was going on, arms out, hands flat on the old wood, muscles straining and shaking as we pushed and pushed.

And held the fucking doors closed.

xxXxx

I hopped outside, into a day that—if you only looked up at the blue sky—was approaching perfect. Of course, if you let your eyes drop to ground level, there was all the downed trees and shish-kebabbed walkers to take notice of.

"Sarah? What're you doing out here?" Rick was leaning on the side wall of the barn.

"Well, there's a lot of things to like about being in a gang an' all. But peeing in an enclosed space with an audience ain't one of 'em." I gestured at the nearby bushes. "I assume we're all clear out here."

He nodded, his expression on the edge of amused.

"Do I shock you?" I demanded, as I walked away. He tried to say 'no', so I laughed and told him I'd try harder.

When I limped back he was sitting on the grass, like he'd slid down where he'd been standing. "Your knee's worse."

I shrugged. In the adrenaline rush of keeping the door closed, I hadn't noticed how awkwardly I'd landed. Now I reckoned I'd undone at least a week's healing up. As I went to sit next to him, he warned me that the grass was wet.

"Great." I grinned at him and lay down instead, making the grass equivalent of a snow angel. "Closest I'mma get to a shower today."

"Now you're shocking me."

"Why?" I pushed up onto my elbows. "Are ya thinking about me in the shower?"

"I didn't say that."

I shot him a quick wink. "Didn't haveta." I sat up, leaning back on the barn like him, and rubbed the rain, dew, whatever it was, on my arms. "Jesus. I was kidding, but that actually feels like washing." When I sneaked a peek sideways, he was looking off into the trees. I stopped teasing and asked him if he was okay.

He tilted his head at me, in surprise. "Yeah. Tired. Like always. But we held the door and look—" He gestured at the fallen walkers.

"Ain't talking about all that. Last night...what you said. Daryl was wrong. You was right. You're right about all of it. 'We do what we gotta do'..."

" _And then we get to live_?" He rubbed his face. "I dunno. We need something. Somewhere. There's so little left."

I gestured at the barn wall. "These people are all alive because of you."

"You don't know how many I've lost."

"I know _I'm_ alive because of you. Used to be that's all that mattered to me. That I made it."

"Used to be?"

There was a long, long second where we looked at each other. I wasn't gonna be any more explicit; he was far from stupid. And I was nothing if not careful.

Rick opened his mouth to say something, but someone—Maggie—called his name as she walked into the clearing, followed by Sasha.

For some freaky-assed reason, the man they were holding at gunpoint smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

I listened as Rick detailed off who was going where. Who was checking out Aaron's car and maybe Aaron's back up, and who was hiding out in the trees here, watchin' for said back up to creep on up and take us all down.

When Rick realized I was hanging back, I indicated my knee, out of the prisoner's eyeline. I wasn't running from no one anytime soon.

" _'Groups of two'_ ," I repeated his instruction back to him, shooting a significant look at Judith, who was sitting on the dirt floor playing with the strap on someone's bag. "An' she don't count. But if you're keeping her here, you might need your hands free." I sat down, adding my fingers to her game, distracting her. Out the corner of my eye I could see Rick didn't like it much, but abruptly he nodded and went to close the barn door.

I shifted my gaze back to the guy tied up to the post. Of all the ways this could play out, only a couple didn't end up with at least one person dead. Most likely him.

When we'd gotten inside the barn, and he'd come across so friendly, even trying to joke around, it was a fucking flashback to what I'd done, out on the road. But that was before he made the mistake of using people's names, like they were all old buddies; he acted like he'd known Sasha forever, called Rick 'Rick' without them being introduced. Rookie error.

Of course I approved of whatever spying Aaron had done, I ain't that much of a hypocrite. But if he'd been watching careful enough, he'd have known Rick was currently nearer one side of the knife edge than the other. He wasn't in the market for no new BFF. Aaron's walkin' in here, spruced up like some catalog model, acting like he was inviting us to some fucking glee club, was beyond stupid. I was pretty sure it was more than just the fact I was a chick, that had stopped Rick from laying me out cold, like he did to Aaron. Aaron was kind of asking for it; fuck, I could've landed one on him myself, just to wipe the 'eager beaverness' off his perky little face.

Now I watched him as he tried reasoning again, despite being tied up, said how he thought we were 'good'. And I carried on watching as Rick told him that us being good people didn't mean we wouldn't kill him. I could see that Aaron believed him. He should've.

Rick came back, crouched down to check on Judith and met my eyes. He raised an eyebrow, which I took as an invitation to give my opinion. I'd kept quiet earlier, waited on the others' reactions to what Aaron was saying. More than one person—important people, like Michonne especially— _wanted_ to believe, wanted to go wherever it was that Aaron lived. His photos of the place, his 'proof', the shit he was carrying with him, they latched onto it all.

And that put me in a real awkward situation. No way was I on their side, if it came down to the group against Rick. What a fucking waste of the effort I'd put into this so far. Plus, what was my option then? Turn it around on Daryl or Abe? Not hardly gonna be credible at this stage of the game. But...

"Look at his clothes," I whispered. "He's living somewhere, for real." I rubbed my own chin and nodded at Rick's beard. "You know he ain't lookin' like that, without hot water on the regular. But, whatever you say...that's how this goes down."

Rick nodded thoughtfully, then paced back across the barn.

I guess it was weird, for Judith, everyone up and leaving like that. She started fussing. I sat her on my lap and started tapping out a beat, but it was only when Rick shot me a disbelieving look that I realized I was singing under my breath. Or maybe it was the choice of song that startled him. Well, I didn't know no freaking nursery rhymes and who was he to say she wouldn't like Kings of Leon, if she heard 'em.

Except it didn't work. She got louder. I stood up, walked around, jiggled her about a bit, switched her left to right. No dice, the kid was hungry and didn't care who knew it.

"You did see the jar of apple sauce in my bag, right?"

Rick and I stared hard at the guy tied up to the post.

Aaron gabbled, "...self preservation. If the roamers hear her, I'll be the first to go..." He had every reason to be shit scared, adding in a walker-attracting baby siren was probably his final straw. I moved towards his stuff, where Carl had emptied out his pack earlier, under Rick's inspection.

" _No_." Same as the water in the road—apparently from this guy. And whoever else was out there with him—same reaction from Rick. He shook his head at me and took Judith, tried to quieten her himself. Without success. I wondered if the others, in the bushes outside, could hear her. Wondered which of them woulda been better'n me at looking after her.

She started to howl something fierce.

I opened the jar anyway.

With a glare, Rick scooped up a spoonful of the apple sauce, marched over and shoved it towards Aaron's mouth.

Protesting that he wouldn't try to poison Judith, Aaron looked desperately at both of us. Then he made another mistake, he told Rick he didn't want to eat it because he hated apple sauce. I saw something flicker in Rick's eyes. The thought that his kid was literally starving in front of him and this guy was expressing a preference for what he ate...

" _Rick_." As I got his attention back, I stuck two fingers in the jar and licked up the sauce. My taste buds went into shock. Rick grimaced in annoyance, but I shrugged. "Tastes like apple sauce."

He still made Aaron eat from the spoon and then he went ahead and tested it himself. I wasn't sure how long he would wait, to see if it was laced with anything; being as it was homemade, I wasn't sure he would ever trust it.

Judith wailed. Well, shit, on top of being hungry, she'd just hadda watch all of us eat something.

I picked up Aaron's can of corned beef and started to undo it with the key.

Rick growled in annoyance and walked right up to me, glaring again, keeping his back to the man on the floor, effectively hiding me from Aaron's view.

"The fuck's he gonna be able to do to stuff in a can?" I hissed, meeting his expression with a challenging stare of my own. "You fed her from the cans I brought with me, when you didn't know me, didn'tcha? _She's hungry_." I scooped out a bit of the meat, ate it myself for whatever proof that would give, then did it again and squished it some, not sure how much the kid could chew.

He hovered on that knife edge again. Between what he wanted to be true and what bitter experience had taught him to expect.

I went ahead an' put the squishy piece in Judith's mouth and it was like a switch flicking off. Silence. She put all her attention into chewing.

"Look," I barely breathed the words. "I know I wasn't where y'all were. Terminus. I never met those...people. But I seen enough shit out there, believe me. I still think maybe we haveta allow that it's possible— _possible_ —that he's on the level. That he has somewhere safe and wants to share it." Rick's eyes never moved from mine. I offered Judith another fingertip's worth of corned beef and she gummed it enthusiastically. "Just so you know, it ain't about the 'where'. For me." I held his gaze. Fuck, the man could stare, but I was just as good. And, dammit, by my reckoning I'd just defied him three times an' I was still standing. "But maybe we test the place? Like the frigging apple sauce. If you don't like it, don't think it's safe...we don't stay."

His thoughts chased across his face, but all he said was, " _We_ don't stay?"

I smiled and put my hand on his arm.

Careful.

xxXxx

"Welcome to Alexandria."

Kind of fancy, for an interrogation room. The old lady wasn't gonna be blocking the doorway, but I checked my other options anyhow as I paced past the bookshelves; the windows might be locked, but there was plenty of random ornaments and crap around, any of which I could hurl through the glass if I needed to. The drop out front wasn't nothing.

If I made it to the gate, there wasn't no look outs, no actual guards, far as I'd seen. The place was like some creepy kind of time capsule. Apart from the big metal walls, it was business as usual for these freaks. Where 'business' meant living high on the fuckin' hog. Even the row houses here was fancy as hell.

The guided tour had turned into picking us off, for 'interviews'. Individually. Like this was some fucking country club. Like it made a difference, what they thought of us.

The boss lady offered me a seat. I looked at the upholstery. She was either out of her mind or she had freaking maid service. I stood behind the armchair she indicated, deliberately wiped the dirt-smudged back of my hand across it, and stared her out.

She smiled, in a way she probably thought was reassuring. "Do you mind if I film this?"

"Why?"

"We're all about transparency...no secrets between people—"

"I know what transparency means." _Fuck you, you condescending bitch_.

"No offense intended. Do you mind, then, if I film you?"

"Whatever." Different times, I'd thought. Other times. No databases, no records, no more. I kept my breathing very calm.

"How long were you out there?"

"How long have y'all been in here?"

"Since almost the beginning."

"Then you don't even know what you're asking. ' _Out there'_? How long was I ' _out there'_? Lady, you wasn't never 'out there' even before everything went to shit."

She nodded, like she was taking all that on board. The fuck she was. She didn't know jack about it. "And what did you do? Before 'everything went to shit'."

 _The hell?_ Right before I said something beyond stupid, it came to me that she was asking what job I used to do. I smirked at her. "I was a Rockette."

"Sarah, it's okay if you don't trust us. It's okay if you don't want to stay."

"What?"

"It's not an 'all or nothing' offer. Some of you may have other thoughts—"

"Like who? What did Rick say?"

Again with the look, like what I said wasn't what she heard. Fuck that. "Are we done?" I made a move towards the door.

"Sarah? I'm good at reading people. If you have a place here, I'll find it for you."

 _If?_

xxXxx

The instinct to check every room, every closet, every single damn corner, was too deep dyed in everyone. Fuck that this place was quiet and clean and styled like some goddamn show home, I still did it and so did every other person in the house. I assumed next door, in the second house that was also 'ours', the others were going through the same motions, including checking out the bedrooms, even though Rick's gut reaction had been to say we'd all stay together.

Gradually though, I heard faucets being turned on, heard delighted exclamations and stunned swearing. I looked around the bedroom that Tara and I had selected, for stowing our gear and having bathroom access, wherever we ended up actually sleeping. She'd asked Sasha to join us, before I got a say, but there was no sign of any of her shit. Somehow I didn't think we'd be sitting around braiding each other's hair any time soon.

The biggest bedroom had a crib set up in it, so someone had anticipated Family Grimes staying in there. Fair enough. Maggie and Glenn had laid claim to the other en-suite room and I didn't blame them. Their door was shut already. This 'un was one of the 'kids' room, with two single beds and fucking 'girly' wallpaper. It was opposite the main bathroom which Tara was playing in, as I started pulling drawers and looking in boxes – fancy storage boxes, all kinds of pastel colors. I didn't remember the last time I'd seen so much... _pale_.

The first giggle that burst out of my mouth surprised even me. By the time I was laughing hysterically, it had pulled Tara away from washing her hands over and over, and attracted more faces in the doorway. I realized I probably sounded like I'd lost it, but I couldn't help it.

"What?" Carol actually looked concerned as I slid to my knees, tears of laughter running down my face.

"Look," I gasped, holding up the scrap of fabric from the drawer I'd opened. "Pajamas. They gave us pajamas."

Tara grabbed up the top, complete with printed teddy bear holding a cup of hot chocolate. She started laughing as well, joining me on the floor.

Carol rolled her eyes and stalked off, but Michonne was smiling— _at_ us, not _with_ us, I was pretty sure—as she disappeared too. Whatever. Everything about this fucking Disneyland was freaky and if they thought I misinterpreted that, they were the idiots.

Turned out that Carol had took advantage and occupied the shower, causing Tara to howl in mock dismay. I let her go next, since she was so all fired up. By the time I got to explore the bathroom, the various shampoos and lotions were already half empty. I put a decent dent in them myself.

I heard the knock at the kitchen door as I was getting dressed. Someone answered it, although the house was all the way quiet now. I was kind of glad the others had disappeared, gone exploring or to be 'interviewed' or whatever. Even with new clothes on, I felt exposed, naked without the layer of filth that had coated me for forever. It was like being in the room with a stranger, when I looked in the mirror. My hair was already drying, the ends curling without the sweat and blood that usually weighed it down. I'd forgotten it did that. I probably would have gotten my natural color wrong, too, if asked; it'd been a long time since I'd seen it. A long time.

I nearly lost myself, in thoughts and memories, might have missed something important if I hadn't registered the extra voice downstairs. And maybe I'd've planned something different, come up with something real clever if I'd taken any time, but as it turned out it didn't matter.

" _Holy shit_."

They both looked around, jumped even, as I leaned in the kitchen doorway. The funny thing was, I wasn't even faking the exclamation. In the slightest.

The blonde woman made an attempt to say hello, but I was watching Rick's own shocked expression as he stared at me. I'd seen all I needed to, of Blondie, in the first two seconds. It crossed my mind that maybe the boss lady wasn't so prim after all; maybe she'd sent this little welcome package for Rick on purpose. Too fucking bad.

Blondie was dead in the water and she hadn't even heard the shot fired.

I grinned at Rick, in a way that let the blonde know she was most definitely excluded from the conversation. "Y'know, I haveta say, this might be an overused expression but, again… _Holy shit!_ Look at you, all clean and shiny."

"Right back at ya," he said with a smile that did more than words ever could, as far as seeing off the blonde went. I suppressed a laugh as she fumbled the last couple of cuts, snatching her scissors at Rick's drying hair and commenting that she'd be happy to help out any newcomers, if anyone else wanted a haircut.

"That's real kind." I kept my eyes fixed on Rick. "We'll be sure an' tell 'em. Won't we, Rick?" _Hear the implication; that was all 'we', Barbie doll._

He made some comment about having to pin down Carl, and the woman suggested she introduce their sons, but the conversation was dying on its feet and she left.

"Didn't you hate that," I said, closing the kitchen door firmly behind her and walking back over to Rick, who hadn't moved from his chair, "when you was a kid? The assumption that you'd be best friends with a neighbor's kid, just because you happened to be the same age?"

"It'd be good for Carl to hang out with someone his own—" Rick stopped short as I leaned in close, touching his hair, finding a curl that was still long enough to twist around my finger. The symbolism wasn't lost on me.

"Coconut. I'd forgotten how good coconut smells," I murmured. "We got apple in the other bathroom."

"Yeah. I'm getting that," he choked out, his own hand going to the curve of my hair that swung in front of his face.

I stroked his newly clean shaven chin. "This though, Jesus H… I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time."

"Yeah?" Every single part of him was tensed. He never even blinked. "That good or bad?"

"Well now, never said I didn't like the way you looked before. But," as I kissed his jaw line, "I guess this is easier now."

He stood, lifting me in the same movement, crashing us back against the cabinet, arms tight around me and mouth claiming mine in a way that that didn't allow for no going back. At all.

Like I said, couldn't have gone better if I'd planned it.


	7. Chapter 7

Some guys surprise you, is all. Well, wasn't even that, really. I just hadn't put any time into thinking about 'after', with Rick. I knew there'd be a 'during', no doubt about that, that was always just a question of timing. But if we'd got it on outside, without all this frigging safe-town shit, there was every chance it'd have happened in some ditch in the woods somewhere, meaning that 'after' wouldn't have been much more'n the time it took to zip back up.

With the luxury of a bed, in a bedroom, turned out Rick Grimes was a cuddler.

Oh, there wasn't nothing half-hearted about the way he fucked, don't get me wrong. I was still catching my breath. We'd only just made it to said bed, in said bedroom. Actually it was possible my newly donated t shirt hadn't joined us, I had a vague memory of him tearing it off me somewhere on the stairs.

But, _after_ , he kept an arm around me and didn't make a grab for his clothes, or tell me to piss off. He wasn't a smoker, neither, so I was pretty much working in the dark as far as 'what happens next'.

He chuckled, deep in his throat.

"What?" I demanded.

"I thought I was imagining it, on the road…that you were flirting with me."

"Me? Flirt? With you?" I rubbed against him, trailed my hand across his stomach, gave him a wicked smile. "Why the hell would I do that?"

He grinned, about the happiest look I'd ever seen on his face, and he kissed me briefly. "No idea," he said, shifting to an even more comfortable position.

I lay with my head on his chest, waiting for him to either get fed up or fall asleep. But he must have been looking at the wallpaper, or the furniture, or something, because he muttered about the place being unreal.

"Ain't it, though," I agreed quietly. "I keep expecting to see a sign saying 'Welcome to Stepford'."

"Hmm." He was thinking. Post-sex. Warm and comfortable. The man was still thinking. I knew I'd had him pegged right. "You getting that 'too good to be true' feeling, too?"

"'Too good to survive', more like. These people are soft. I ain't sure even these walls are enough. Although..." _Careful._ I didn't want to push too far, too fast. It was only one fuck. So far. "...might not matter for me. Lady Fancypants ain't sure if I'm a keeper."

"What?" He craned his neck to look at me.

I put my hand up to his face. "Ain't no big deal. She just said she didn't know if they had a place for me."

Rick sat up. Guess the cuddling was done. "The fuck they don't! She wants us to look after this little Disneyland, she'll take all of us!" Good to know.

I pushed up on my elbow. "You know it don't matter to me, right? Places ain't important." As I sat up, something tickled all the way down my front.

"Shit, did I break that?" Rick picked up the broken necklace. "Sorry."

I took it off him and threw it over my shoulder, telling him I didn't care. "I'll just pick up another one, next time I'm on a run." Ain't as if I wasn't wearing another four or five.

"You're kind of a magpie, huh?"

I smiled as I ran my finger over his collar bone. The imprint of the largest chain was still visible, pressed into his skin. "Maybe I should take 'em off, next time."

"Oh, yeah?" Hell, no one could say I didn't know how to make a man smile. "Next time, huh?"

xxXxx

I showered. Again. Which meant only that I was taking advantage of these candy asses and their freaking solar powered hot water, not that I was getting sucked into the propaganda.

Someone had found my T shirt and laid it over the top banister. Even if it wasn't Rick, I didn't see it was a problem. Wasn't like it had 'dropped here for sex purposes' written all over it. Apparently our hooking up was staying on the QT until he had a chance to talk to Carl. Why any damn teenager should get an opinion after the fact, I had no clue, but I wasn't about to raise that argument.

There were voices on the porch out front. Daryl was lounging up on the railing and ignoring Rosita, Tara and Eugene, who tried to rope me in, on their side.

"Have you even moved?" I said to Daryl. "Y'are allowed inside, y'know. Maybe not on the couch, but we could put some newspaper down in the corner of the kitchen for you."

Tara shot me an appalled look, so I made an innocent 'what?' face back at her. It wasn't like Daryl was paying me any mind anyhow.

Rosita threw up her hands. "Fine. Don't go. Sarah, you can take his turn." It transpired she was supposed to be sending every one of us by the 'infirmary', for a check up. Given how well my introductory interview had gone, I was less than keen. Hell, I'd ended up on Daryl's side, whether I liked it or not.

"Wait a minute. Do I get a choice in this or what?" I stared at Rosita.

She rolled her eyes at the two of us. "Most people would be happy to have a real doctor around again."

"I don't need a friggin' doctor! Ain't nothing wrong with me."

"Then let him put that down. Half of these townies think we're gonna infect them by sneezing on them."

The 'medical center' turned out to be just another house. Sure, it had cabinets with equipment, drip stands and shit like that, but it wasn't exactly high tech. I scanned the room.

"You can come all the way in, you know." The tall guy had one of those professional smiles. He held out his hand. "Pete Anderson. I know I don't have a white coat, but I promise, I am a real doctor."

I nodded. If he had scalpels, they weren't obviously on display. I'd assumed the pill bottles I could see lined up were basic stuff, like aspirin, but I couldn't be sure in this place. I wandered closer, real casual.

"Ain't nothing I need a doctor for," I informed him. "So you just go ahead and write that down somewhere."

"I think that you might be underestimating what you've been through. You were on the road...how long?" When I didn't reply, he smiled his non-smile again. "At the very least I'll bet you're vitamin deficient, and just looking at you now, I suspect you have some kind of knee injury."

I stopped dead. "Gimme some vitamins, then."

He opened a folder on the desk. "Why don't you give me a few details..."

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

He held out his hands as he approached me, like he was making peace. "At least let me see if I can help with any knee pain? I'm a surgeon, in real life." He pointed at the examining couch. "Hop up."

I was all but backed into the frigging couch as it was. So I sat on it and he touched my knee, put both his hands on it, got me to raise and lower it.

"Ow!" He'd put pressure on it as he pushed it to the side.

"Sorry," he said, in a real pleasant tone, as his hand slid up my thigh.

I jumped down, knocking his arm out of the way. "Y'know what, doc, I think it's getting better all on its own. And by the way," I sneered at him over my shoulder as I headed for the door, "this _is_ real fucking life!"

xxXxx

Roadsides and barns was one thing. Everyone together for some crazy sleepover in the front room of this play house, that struck me as screwier, somehow. All that space available, all those places where people could've got their heads together in peace and quiet.

I smiled across the room at Rick. Our blankets were not near each other.

"You sure?" I'd teased, earlier, when we met up in the kitchen and he said he still wanted everyone to stay together tonight. When I leaned against him, he groaned—real quiet, there were people in the house now—and said I wasn't making it easy.

"That's 'cause 'easy' ain't no fun. 'Hard'...that's where it's at." I slipped my hand between us and down to his crotch.

"There you are—" Carol and Michonne came into the room, yakking about something they needed a decision on.

I was away and up on the counter top, swinging my legs as I reached for an apple from a bowlful that had appeared. I bit into it, grinning, as Rick cleared his throat and pretended he was real interested in something in the cabinet behind him.

Now, with every single one of the group camped out around us, he half smiled back at me as he went to answer the knock at the door. Ha, if he thought he was keeping it quiet, whatever 'it' was between us, he was mistaken. That is, if anyone was any good at watching for clues, at all. To me, he looked exactly like a man who'd broken a hella long dry spell.

And who should it be at the door, but the old witch, Deanna, herself. Come to see if we was all tucked in. Maybe, if the look she gave the spruced up Rick was anything to go by, to do some of the tucking in herself. So much for _her_ magic people-reading powers. I laughed out loud just a little, making Rosita look at me curiously.

Jobs. Apparently everyone was getting jobs. Except she was keeping Rick and Michonne's a secret, and Daryl and me, she was still 'working out'. Like she was playing with fucking dolls, in her fucking model village. Well, screw her, if she thought she was getting a resume of any kind off me.

Later—I wasn't sure how much later, only that I'd had to get out of that damn room with its tasteful pictures, matching pillows, and assorted fancy shit—I sat up on the porch rail, watching the night. Being inside with so many people was worse than being on the road with 'em. When I saw Rick head out the other door, I gave a quick whistle. He turned around, sharp but not walker-reaction sharp. Dead 'uns don't whistle. I let myself down carefully, not quite trusting my knee and joined him on the sidewalk. "Can't sleep?"

He nodded.

"Me neither." We walked on, along the front of the other house that been 'gifted' to us, where Abraham and Rosita and the rest would stake some claim. For if we ever split up, nights. I was pretty sure that was what these Stepford freaks wanted. Maybe it was meant to be kind, or fairer, fifteen of us an' two houses. But it seemed to me, if Queen Deanna had any kind of game, it'd haveta be some kind of 'divide an' conquer' long con. I nudged Rick with my elbow. "You ever see one of them movies, where the dude wakes up, then wakes up _again_ , 'cause the first time wasn't but another dream?" I asked. " _This_ —" I waved a hand at the street in front of us.

Rick stopped and slung his arm across my shoulders. "I hear you."

"Yeah. Need to be real careful here. These people are soft, Rick, but they ain't necessarily all stupid."

"I'm being plenty careful."

"Yeah?" I nodded. "Got a lot of people relying on ya, I know that. Maybe they want ya to settle down here, fit in, all that shit. But me... I got your back, whatever goes down, you don't haveta worry about me."

"What're ya saying?"

"Just that. Whatever you decide, I'll be there." I leaned in and kissed him.

"What if I decide to settle down here?" _There ya go, Sheriff_. Because he left off the 'fitting in' part. Implying something more than the simple idea of staying put.

I gave him a long look. "This place ain't gonna make it, without someone who knows 'what's what' in charge."

Rick nodded slowly. "Let's let the dust settle. See what happens."

I cuddled against him. "That's all I'm sayin'," I murmured.

We were past the second house now, but I shot a glance at their yard; it curved around in back without a fence. I reached up and held onto his hand and altered the direction we were heading. I grinned at his puzzled face. "Everyone's in th'other house, right? What are the odds that they locked this 'un?"

"What? Why? _Oh_. We can't..." He tried to sound serious but he made no attempt to stop me from going up to the back door. Nor opening it. Nor closing it behind us. Ain't like I expected him to be different from any other man, once he had it on tap.

xxXxx

The next day or so produced a quick coupla 'firsts' for me. At least, I was pretty sure it was the first time I ever banged a cop. In uniform, anyway. Even a toy town'll give you a surprising number of places for a quickie, if you're smart and motivated. And Rick's new job surely motivated me, to keep close to him.

See, Deanna had gotten around to revealing her 'big secret', which turned out to be making Rick—and for some reason, Michonne—the law in town. I guess she thought she had them pegged as the toughest guys on the team, which made a certain amount of sense but also showed she wasn't nowhere as smart as she figured herself to be. The fact that she fell hook, line and sinker for Carol's Donna Reed impersonation, proved that; Carol was grifting like a pro and the funniest thing was the way the rest of the group never batted an eye—like she hadn't never been anything but some happy homemaker.

When I'd called her on it, she'd freely admitted it was all an act. Not that it exactly cleared the air between us.

That morning, I'd ended up kicking around on the porch, shooting the breeze with Abe and Eugene. The big guy had offered that I could go out with him and the resources crew, to pick up more building supplies, since I hadn't yet been 'assigned' anywhere.

"Deanna still thinking about what to do with you, or what?" he asked, moving sideways on the step, to let Carol pass by, on her way inside.

I shrugged. "I guess."

"Maybe they're all out of poles," said Carol, in a cheerful tone.

Abe snorted, as I whipped my head around. "Say _what_?"

"I believe she's referring to the equipment in a 'strip tease' or exotic dance establishment, with the further implication being, that used to be your previous employment: dancing on a pole," Eugene supplied.

"Yeah. I got that, thanks," I told him through gritted teeth, then turned my glare back on Carol. "It ain't the poles, darlin', it's the dead presidents that are in short supply, so what'd be the point?" I hooked one hand around the porch upright and leaned back, using the other to mime tucking a banknote into my bra strap. Abe appreciated my humor and patted his pockets, like he was looking for dough. I winked at him.

"Classy." Carol curled her lip and went inside.

I took a breath that did nothing to calm me and followed her. Behind me I could hear Abraham trying to explain to Useless that I was kidding.

"Yo, Martha Stewart, you and me need to have a little talk?"

Carol smiled to herself, which infuriated me. So did the way she kept right on yanking bowls and shit out of the cabinets.

"What the hell gives with all this fucking baking?"

"Oh, Sarah. You of all people should know that you catch more flies with honey, _Honey_."

I chewed on my thumbnail. Okay, that was fucking clever. Score one to Carol. She shot me a look, checking I was up to speed. I nodded back. "Rick knows what you're doing." I wasn't asking her, I was just confirming it. I wondered when— _if_ —he would've gotten around to telling me.

"It works pretty well, with you being so hostile. They're so busy watching you and Daryl, I'm way under their radar." Carol was mixing stuff together, but I had no clue what it would turn out to be.

"So, what was that just now? You 'in character', or what?"

"Nope." She stuck a finger in and tasted whatever the mystery mix was, adding a shake of something or other. "I just don't like you."

"But it's still 'them' and 'us'? 'They're' watching me, you said. You know I'm on Rick's side."

Carol put down the spoon she was holding, her eyes sweeping over me, before she replied, "I don't think you're on anyone's side but your own."

Well, she was consistent, give her that. An' I hadn't ever assumed she was on _my_ side, so I wasn't no worse off. Short term, I had other things to keep an eye on, highlighted at the other 'first', that night.

First 'welcome reception' I ever went to. I been to a few hell raisers in my time, but this one was a mindfuck an' no mistake. I mean, it _looked_ like it oughta be a party. These Twilight Zone assholes had _beer_. But all of 'em standing around just yakking an' laughing politely...I wanted to slap every smug face there. We were the major entertainment, as far as they all went. Judith got plenty of attention, which she took better than the rest of us. Especially Sasha, who had a mini-meltdown, and for the first time I had some sympathy for her point of view. I wondered idly what would happen if I strolled over and opened the gate, let a few dead 'uns in, to _really_ liven things up.

Touchy-feely doctor was there, turned out to be Blondie's old man, which was laughable. I wasn't so amused as I watched her from my perch in the corner, while she cozied up to Rick, gettin' all gooey over the baby, like she invented the concept of a short cut to getting laid. Well, she could fucking well form a line. Behind me.

I took the opportunity to whisper in Rick's ear, when he was between polite conversations with desperate housewives. You'd better believe there wasn't nothing 'polite' about what I promised him for later. I figured these buttoned up belles were probably gagging for a real man. I wasn't taking no chances.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Shout out to my friends from elsewhere. I left you an Easter egg...**

* * *

Well away from the town walls, I watched from behind a tree as Carol pulled out the handguns. So, they were working some loophole on the 'no firearms to be carried inside Alexandria' rule.

 _'Bout fucking time._

Rick took one, checked it over automatically, but looked up when there was a pause as Daryl didn't accept the other one Carol held out.

"Give it to Sarah," Daryl said, which made 'em frown, until he called over his shoulder, "You might as well come on out."

"Well, shit," I drawled, walking over to them. "Are my days of creeping up on ya over with, Dixon?

He just leveled a stare at me.

"What're you doing out here?" Rick didn't sound pissed, just curious. Maybe on the edge of worried.

I grinned at all three of them, indicated the weapons and put on a sappy, excited voice. "Ooh, I wanna be in the gang. Can I be Ponyboy? When's the rumble?"

"This is...just in case." And then, as easy and automatic as the way he'd handled the gun, Rick dropped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. "What're you doing out here on your own? You tell anyone you were going outside?"

Tucking my own arm around his waist, I squeezed back. "Yup. Saw Rosita on my way out. It's all good." I patted my belt knife, then tilted my face up and he kissed me briefly. I let myself have the real reward, the look of disgust on Carol's face before I smiled sweetly. "So, what's up with the secret club?" Although it was obvious, these three were the most suspicious. These three were the ones who'd be the driving force behind any takeover bid. I wasn't never gonna be that wrong.

"As Rick said, 'just in case'. Hopefully it won't come to needing them." Carol tucked the second gun away, without offering it to me.

"Don't think it will," Daryl said, sounding almost apologetic. "Like I said, if things go bad, it's one thing...but they need us. They know it."

"They know shit," I snapped. "They don't even know to be afraid." I threw a glance at Rick. "You can't afford Judith to grow up soft. Ain't safe for her, not to know how the world is now. And what about Carl?" I included the other two in my glare this time. "You want him to lose his edge? Spend his days circle jerking with the candy-ass kids down the block? Some of these people, _boys Carl's age_ , they ain't even seen a walker up close, d'ya know that?"

"And you're leading the attack, are you?" Carol rolled her eyes.

"Nobody's attacking anything, or anyone." Rick's voice was firm, but damn if he didn't look kind of pleased with me. "Nothing's changed yet. If we get things how we want them without needing to use force, that's okay." He looked around the surrounding trees. "We oughta get back, before they miss all of us."

Since he kept his arm around me as we walked, I dared to push a little. "Are we...walking back in _together_?"

With a blink, he seemed to only just notice that he was holding onto me. That was good. I was a habit, already. He smiled "Oh. Right." He nodded at Carol and Daryl. "So, me an' Sarah, this is a... thing."

Daryl gave a little snort of amusement, making Rick give him a curious look and in turn Daryl shook his head, like Rick was completely stupid. "Ain't 'xactly been nothin' secret about it."

"You a mind reader, Robin Hood?" I snarked.

"I got ears. Y'all might wanna think about closing that bedroom window some time."

I could see the picture drop into Rick's mind, of Daryl's usual spot on the porch. Right under the bedroom window. I bit my lip, to keep from chuckling.

"Okay." Rick half smiled. "Only," and he directed this at Carol, I was pretty sure, "I haven't said anything to Carl yet. So..."

So. We went our separate ways once we crossed the entry gate. I raised a hand in greeting to Maggie as she came around the corner of one of the empty houses, then dropped it as Deanna appeared, hard on her heels.

"I'm so glad to run into you." Christ, but the old bitch could smarm with the best of 'em.

"That so?" I gazed around.

She told Maggie she'd catch up with her, as she wanted to talk to me about 'what I was going to do best'. She gave me her 'reassuring' smile as she looked me over. "What are we going to do with you, hmm?"

"Ain't got me figured out yet?" _Tough shit, lady. You ain't getting rid of me, not unless you want rid of Rick too an' that ain't happening no time soon_.

"I do find it fascinating that none of your companions has the faintest idea what occupation suited you, before. Most people's skill sets are transferable in some form or other."

"I can track. Ask Daryl." I shrugged, like it was of no consequence to me. "Good at putting walkers down, ask Abe. I'm useful."

Deanna smiled a different kind of smile. "And what kind of reference would I get if I asked Rick?"

I breathed real slow. In. Out. Smiled right back. "Ask him whatever you like."

"And?" Oh, so pleasant in her tone.

"I think he'll tell you I'm useful." Maybe I smirked. Just a little. But it was past time for Rick's 'opinion' of me to be out there, for real. I needed to think on that.

"Everyone here needs to be useful to the whole group, that's how this place functions. "

"I'mma go out on a run with Daryl and Aaron. I'm a outdoors kind of cat."

She was surprised. Probably they would be too, since I hadn't spoken to either of them. But as I said it, I realized I did need to be outside these walls. Away from her freaky rules and her pathetic little society. As much as possible. And telling her it was a done deal seemed to work, so all I'd haveta do now was reverse that and tell Aaron that Deanna had teed me up for the job.

Make everyone think it was their own idea, but get what I wanted in the end.

 _Transferable skills, baby. Fucking. Transferable. Skills._

xxXxx

Not again.

Like always, my instinct was to fight, even though I knew that it was pointless. Knew that struggling would make things worse, make him...

"Ow!"

I sat up, blinking. Tara squinted at me around the hand over her eye. My brain whirled. Where was I? Why was she sitting on my bed? Oh, this _was_ my bed, in our room, in the show home...

Oh.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. Did I pop you one?"

"You were having a nightmare." She smiled, rubbing her cheek. "Guess I shouldn't have tried to wake you."

The house was so quiet. Middle of the night. Someone had left a small light burning in the hallway outside, though. Guess more than one of us was still in the habit of waking up, needing to check where they were. Or maybe people were just getting used to luxuries, like lights, again.

Despite the fact that I'd nearly blacked _her_ eye, Tara asked me if I was okay. Asked me if I wanted to talk about my nightmare. "Sounded like you were remembering a close call, you said 'get off me'."

"Yeah?" I shook my head. "Don't remember it now. Some walker, I guess." I tugged the cover up a little, to disguise the shiver and divert her from the lie. "Sorry I woke ya."

She went back to her own bed and I lay, listening for her breathing to even out. I wished my iPod hadn't given up the ghost. I'd found a power cord, plus earbuds still in the pack, on my bed the other day, but my lucky charm refused to play. One trauma too many, over recent months, I supposed.

When Tara was asleep, I slipped out of the room. The best lies always have a basis in truth, which makes them way more workable options. I could've used this particular play any night, any night at all, but I might as well go with the backup of Tara's bruise as evidence.

I was real quiet about opening the door, but he was on a hair trigger for night noises, of course.

"Rick?" You can get a surprising amount of emotion into a whisper. Just so he was clear this wasn't no regular booty call.

I was thankful that Carl had nixed the idea of a camp bed in his dad's room, when Rick suggested it. Fuck's sake, he must remember being a teenage boy—this was probably the kid's first chance to have any real 'alone time' since he hit puberty. He'd made some kind of den, up in one of the top floor rooms. And for once, 'sleeping like a baby' didn't mean 'awake and yelling'; Judith was just a snuffling lump under her crib blanket.

"What's up?" Rick whispered back as I walked over. "Is there a problem?"

"This is gonna make me sound like I'm five years old. But...I had a nightmare."

I heard him breathe out the tension of waking suddenly, alert for danger. This he could fix. He scooted back and held up the sheet, so I could join him.

"C'mere." He folded his arms around me.

xxXxx

There was a lock on the door of the master bedroom, of course. But you can hardly blame a person who just had a nightmare, half-sleepy and all the way strung out, for forgetting to use it. Can ya?

When I heard him pounding down the stairs, I guess I coulda got up and flicked the lock. Or when he was calling, "Dad, want me to take Judith?" as he came down the hallway. But, that woulda been a whole lot less fun.

'Sides, there are secrets that are better kept and secrets that are better out there. It was pointless Carol and Daryl being the only ones who knew about me 'n Rick.

Pointless and no damn use to me.

Despite all that, I had no way of knowing the kid would just burst into the room and I genuinely didn't intend to flash him. But it got the message across, loud and clear. Michonne being in the hallway behind him was just the icing on the cake.

"Dad?" Carl stopped so quick, Michonne bumped into him.

"He's, uh, in the—" I pointed at the door to the en suite with one hand, while I tugged the sheet up and over me with the other. "Judith's down in the kitchen." Someone was giving her breakfast, whoever had been down there when Rick went earlier. He'd come back upstairs with a cup of coffee for me, but it had gone cold on the night stand as I thanked him. Extensively.

At exactly the same second as I was 'explaining' his whereabouts, Rick stepped out of the bathroom—naked—registered Carl and Michonne, and ducked right back inside, to reappear with a towel hastily wrapped around his middle. That was all the time it took for Carl to spin on his heel and run from the room.

I had one further moment to lock eyes with Michonne, before she made the kind of face that combined annoyance, distaste and disbelief, and followed Carl.

"Fuck." Rick got as far as the bedroom door before he realized he wasn't going to make things any better by tearing through the house in a towel. He slapped his hand on the door frame.

I made him turn around by telling him I had a suggestion. "Shut the door and lock it this time…" Which totally made it sound like he'd been the one to leave it unlocked last time. He was distracted enough not to notice. I let the sheet fall.

"I need to go after Carl." He had closed the door, but was gathering up his clothes.

"Why?" I flopped onto my stomach. "To explain that you're human? That you're allowed to have a bit of your life that don't revolve around him?" That made him blink in surprise. I shrugged. "Just sayin'…"

With a sigh, Rick sat on the bed, close enough so I could half sit and snake an arm around him.

"So, he's pissed at you. He's what, fourteen? That's his mission in life." I was wrapped all the way around him now, kissing along his shoulder, nudging into his neck. "Let him cool off some." Meanwhile I would be making a point to that judgmental bitch with the dreads.

When Rick reached around to pull me onto his lap and kiss me, I amended that; we were making a point to the whole fucking lot of 'em.

xxXxx

"— _and she doesn't even like Judith for real, she's only pretending, y'know that, right?"_

I hopped down the porch steps and fell in with Daryl, walking up the street. "Guess someone ain't got his indoor voice tuned up yet," I commented cheerfully, as we left Carl's yelling behind.

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "You leavin' Rick to deal?"

"'S'his kid." I shrugged. What was I supposed to do about it? I'd tried to win the spiky little bastard over, when I needed to. He wasn't gonna keep me out of Rick's bed, not now, whatever tantrums he threw.

We made it all the way to Aaron's place before Daryl spoke again. "An' you're following me, why?"

"I'mma come with," I informed him.

"Oh no, you ain't."

I nodded. "Yup. Deanna was all over me again, what job I oughta be doing, all that crap."

Aaron came out of his front door, pausing to kiss Eric goodbye. I waved at Eric. For some reason, that made Daryl growl in annoyance. I just smiled harder at Aaron. Maybe the usual angle wouldn't be no help, but I had all those transferable skills at my fingertips...

"Ain't that right, Aaron? Did Deanna speak to ya, about me?"

He frowned. Just a little. He was such a Dudley Do-Right. Before he could say whatever was on his mind, I sighed.

"I figure, she just don't know what to do with me. I don't think I fit in her tidy little town." _Kerching!_ Now his frown was a little sad. "Was thinkin', I could say I went with ya, couple of times...while I work out what to do for real..."

"No, that's okay. You can come today." He turned to Daryl apologetically. "Actually I already said I'd take Colin. And it's more of a fact finding, than recruiting, run. So we could take just the car. I hope that's okay?"

It obviously wasn't—who the hell was Colin anyhow?—but between Daryl's reluctance to voice his objection and Aaron's relentless cheerfulness, the four of us ended up in a minivan, heading for somewhere called 'Sawyer's Pond'.

Colin was a dorky fish expert. Like, mindblowingly dorky. Like the professor, king and God of all fishing experts. And he was sweating like a pig in a bacon factory, so I sat as far from him as possible. He kept trying to show us different fishhooks with bits of shit tied on, like feathers and shiny doodads. He had a whole box of 'em. More than once Aaron had to remind him that we were only going to see if this place had enough fish in it to make it worthwhile fencing it in, or whatever.

"If we can transport enough fish, nearer Alexandria, maybe to our own pond, we could have our own regular supply."

There were problems with this plan, according to Colin, depending on whether the fish were the right kind. I gave up listening, until he suddenly thought to ask Daryl if he liked fishing.

"Not like that," he grunted, pointing at Colin's box of tricks, "done some—"

"Noodlin'" I jumped in, at the same time as he said it. I laughed and kicked the back of his seat. " _Jinx_."

He shot me a look that clearly said, 'grow up', but I just smiled.

Sawyer's Pond turned out to be a clearing next to a small lake, with a basic bar'n'grill and a handful of cabins. It was way back in the woods. I had no clue how the bar had made any dough, unless there was literally nowhere else to get a drink for miles around.

"Oh, dear." Colin mopped his brow. "Oh, my."

There was a walker, lurching out of the trees, drawn by the sound of us, arriving. Just the one. For Chrissakes. I rolled my eyes at the fishGod and got out the car, pulling out my bigger knife. The dead 'un was still ten feet from me when it dropped to the ground, an arrow in its forehead.

"Dixon!" I waved my knife at Daryl, in complaint. He ignored me and walked over to retrieve the arrow. "I totally had that," I grumbled to Aaron. He shrugged.

"OhOhOh—" Colin puked on the ground.

Jeez, these fuckers were so candy-assed, they oughta have 'M&M' stamped on their butts.

"C'mon." I marched over to the bar entrance, motioning for Daryl to follow me.

"Whoa. We ain't got no reason to go inside." He pointed at the lake. "Fish. Water. _You_." He pointed at Colin. " _You_ , Miss 'I'mma tagalong', watch this side." And with that, he walked off, around the water's edge.

"Is he always like this, when you go out?" I demanded of Aaron.

"Oh no. Sometimes he hardly talks at all." He shot me a grin, popped the trunk and helped Colin start unloading his crap.

xxXxx

The second time Colin heaved up his guts, there wasn't a walker in sight. He hunched over, holding his middle and groaning.

"Are you sick?" Aaron went to feel the older guy's sweaty forehead, then thought better of it. "How long have you been feeling bad?"

Since the previous night, apparently. Only the thought of all this exciting fishing was more than he could bear to put off, so he'd downed a bottle of Pepto and got in the car with all of us.

"I hope you ain't catchin'!" I moved away.

Aaron was asking about the pain in Colin's guts. Then he spoke quietly to Daryl. I nipped over to eavesdrop and heard the word, 'appendicitis'. Seriously? They looked at all the equipment spread out; fishing rods, nets, coupla cool boxes for the catches, if there was any.

"Wait a sec." Daryl stalked over to the side of the nearest cabin and hauled a tarp from the vehicle parked up there. It was an ancient pick up. Like antique-looking.

His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

* * *

 **So, review display is fixed. :) It'd be nice to hear what everyone thinks...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the false start yesterday, I got spooked that the site was glitching again!**

 **Homage to my favorite ever episode. This will be a two-hander. Because: 'Still'.**

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"Can't you make this piece of shit go no faster?"

"This 'piece of shit' is a beautiful vintage machine—"

"Yeah, if by 'vintage' you mean 'no freaking heat and even less seat cushions'. This thing's gonna bounce me to pieces." I kicked the side panel of the old flat bed truck.

"Hey!" Daryl shot me a hellava scowl. "Quit complaining."

"Should've rode with the others."

"Wish ya did."

Once Daryl had hot-wired the beautiful, vintage, piece of shit, he'd persuaded Aaron to take Colin back to Alexandria by himself. Two of us could handle the equipment, he'd said. Give it the afternoon, like they'd planned, he'd said. Basically, he wanted to keep the damn pickup whatever, and I was better than no one as look out, while he checked it over and loaded it up.

I was tired and hacked off, and seriously reconsidering my plan to hitch up with the two amigos, if what I had to look forward to was more afternoons being ignored by Daryl, in different settings. I kicked the side panel again, on the sly.

When the tire blew out, the pickup fishtailed wildly.

Daryl fought the wheel, dragging on it and trying to keep the vehicle on the leaf-covered road surface. He swore something spectacular as, despite his efforts, the truck span a full 360 and slid nose first into the trees. The impact threw us both forwards across the cab. And then everything went still.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck." I knew that Daryl was stretching slowly, checking himself for injuries, but all I could focus on was my own pain. I leaned back against the door, foot up on the bench seat, cradling my right forearm and trying to calm my breathing.

He turned the key, but there was no response from the engine at all.

Then the lousy bastard was checking his fucking crossbow, before setting it on the dashboard and finally turning to me. "You hurt?"

"Genius," I hissed through my teeth. "You're a fucking genius."

He hesitated. "You bust your arm?"

"No, _you_ bust it, asshole, driving us into a fucking tree." I dropped my head. Calm. _Get calm, be calm._ "Sorry," I told him. "No. I mean, _no_ : it ain't busted. My elbow's dislocated. You're gonna haveta pop it back for me."

"What? No. It might be broke, I can't—"

"It ain't. It's dislocated."

"How can you be sure?"

"'Cause this ain't my first rodeo, genius." I looked him in the eye, which was disconcerting for several reasons.

"Shit." Daryl rubbed his face. "What I gotta do then?"

I shifted on the seat, catching my breath. "Get me outta this, first." I tried to shrug off my leather jacket via the uninjured arm. Daryl awkwardly caught the sleeve and pulled it off and then moved it until only my right arm was inside. I swore loudly as he eased it off. Beads of sweat slid down my face and down the neckline of my vest top. I tried to focus on something else, but the crumpled hood I could see through the cracked windshield didn't really help. "This thing ain't gonna catch on fire, or nothin', is it?"

Daryl shook his head quickly. "That ain't even what's keepin' us stuck. The tire and the fact we're in the fucking ditch is the problem." He eyed my arm warily. "They'll be looking for us, soon as they realize we ain't come in. Getcha to the infirmary real soon."

"Nope. You gotta do it now. My fingers are goin' numb." I started to explain what he had to do, then lost my patience and used my good arm to grab his and demonstrated on him what angle he ought to be aiming for. "Do it and don't stop, even I squeak some, okay? It's gonna fucking hurt." I braced myself against the door.

Daryl knelt on the bench seat, as he took my hand in both of his. "Fuck..." he muttered.

"Don't tell me 'fuck', asshole, just—Argghhhh!"

"'S'it done?"

I flexed my fingers by a tiny amount. "Yeah. 'S'better. Thanks. We got something to make a sling? Need to keep it still a while." I slid down until I was almost horizontal on the bench seat. No way I was admitting I felt kind of faint.

The light was fading, even as we both scanned the empty cab. With a grimace, Daryl pulled off his vest and then tugged his T shirt over his head.

What I saw made me suck air over my teeth as he leaned into me.

"What?"

"Dude. You broke a rib!" There was a wide reddish band across his chest, the exact shape of the steering wheel, already bruising up.

Daryl curled his lip. "Nah. Ain't nothing broke—" he widened his eyes at me, when I went to protest, "ain't my first rodeo, neither, darlin'. I know what broke ribs feel like. C'mere, this'll work." He started to put the neck of his T shirt over my head, fixing to use the body to fashion a sling, I guessed.

"Great," I deadpanned, "now I'mma smell like—"

" _Shut it_." Daryl pressed his fingers on my lips and froze in place, hovering over me, eyes on the window.

The shuffling came close to the pickup. Very close. One of the walkers even bounced off the side mirror. The scariest thing was knowing they were behind me and I couldn't see a thing, couldn't check for options, couldn't even move. All I could do was listen as they passed the truck. The only thing in my line of sight was Daryl's shoulder, just inches from my face. And the pulse in his neck.

Daryl barely breathed as he waited for the walkers to pass. He'd frozen solid with one knee on the seat and one hand behind my head, not expecting to stay motionless for so long and his arm started to tense up, the muscles quivering.

I shifted my good hand across between us—at least I was below the window line, wouldn't be seen—until I touched Daryl's arm. I pulled down steadily; if he moved slow, timed it right, he could take some pressure off.

" _Stop_ ," he hissed.

"Don't be stupid," I mouthed the words as quiet as I could. I felt, more than saw, that he checked right and left with his eyes, then relaxed his arm, sliding down until he was lying half on top of me.

I felt his breath against my ear. His stubble caught in my hair. I was trapped. Walkers outside, my knife arm next to useless, the other one still holding onto Daryl's bicep.

"I can't see nothin' now," he complained, voice low as anything, right in my ear.

"Shut up and listen, then."

Right as I whispered that, there was another bump against the pickup. How many of 'em had been attracted by the noise of the crash? How many would be distracted by something else? I prayed for an owl to hoot, or something to make a noise further off.

We waited.

And waited. Silent and motionless. Until I couldn't stand it no more.

"Are they still— _Daryl_?"

He turned his head, looking at me like I was crazy. "Who the hell else'd you be talking to?"

"I thought you was asleep," I explained, like a plumb fool. He snorted. Quietly.

"I think they're gone. But maybe another minute? An' I figure we oughta stay put 'til morning. You okay?"

I nodded. "Been stuck worse places." Shit. That wasn't exactly what I meant. But he just nodded back.

"Me too."

"'Sides, they gotta eat their way through you, to get to me. So, y'know, there's that." I smiled. "Otherwise, 'so far, so prom night'."

He gave me the look again. Crazy woman. Whatever.

He levered himself up, after another little while, even remembering to be careful of my elbow, as he checked out the windows. He winced as he moved, proving that he was hurting more than he'd let on. When he was happy that the coast was clear, he sat all the way around and let me up.

I eased my elbow into the makeshift sling. It was full dark now. There was no movement outside though. No noise.

"So," I kept my voice down, just in case, "y'know y'said 'they'll be coming for us soon'?"

"Jesus, woman, do you never let up?"

"You don't like that I was right is all. Although," I gave him a little sideways glance, "maybe just as well Rick didn't come along, see us getting cozy like that..."

"Cop at the window, me half naked? Shit, now _I'm_ getting a flashback to prom night."

I stared, open mouthed. "Daryl Dixon, did you just make a joke?"

"Fuck you." He actually smiled, though, as he said it. He winced again, pulling on his vest.

"Did you even go to prom?"

"Meaning what? You don't think I graduated?" He shot me a sideways scowl.

I sighed. "Anyone ever tell you, you are the touchiest son of a bitch? _I_ never graduated fuckin' high school, so don't you be getting all precious on me about it. I only meant I couldn't 'xactly imagine you in a tux an' all."

"What the hell were you talking about before, then?"

"Never said it was _my_ prom night, now did I? Happened to be the guy's an' I had a score to settle with his girlfriend." I tried to settle into a more comfortable position, but there was nowhere for me to rest my arm. I swore as I moved it a little too much.

"Quit wrigglin'."

"Said no one ever, on prom night." I unzipped my small bag, took out one of the little bottles and fumbled with the lid, left handed. "Can you get this?" I held it out to Daryl. He checked the label curiously before he opened it. Of course it was worn away and told him nothing. "It's Oxy. You want?"

"You get this from the infirmary?"

"Nah. I always had it. You geeks suck at searching." I smiled at his surprise. "But I totally know where they keep the good stuff in the infirmary, wanna be my getaway driver? Oh, wait—" I waved my free hand to indicate the crumpled hood in front of us. "Maybe not."

"Shut up." He'd opened the container, tipped some of the pills into his hand. "You want these crushed?"

It was my turn to express surprise. I told him I'd chew them this time, not snort 'em, but he could partake however he preferred.

"Nah. I'm okay. An' one of us should be in their right mind."

"Fuck you. A couple'll barely take the edge off." I crunched the pills. Although I'd been cold sober so long, and I was taking them on an empty stomach, so who knew if I was in for a decent buzz or not. It didn't mean a thing, if it happened. I was hurting. People took shit all the time, for medical reasons. Any buzz was purely gonna be a side effect. Wasn't like it counted as falling off the fucking wagon. I closed my eyes, waiting to find out.

"How come you wear so much fucking jewelry?"

I opened one eye. "Are you looking at my tits?"

"They're necklaces, not stripper tassels. Whole lot of 'em too. Jus' wondering what the point is."

I smiled. "Might've gone a little crazy, when the alarms went off. Or when they never, if you see what I mean. Like when they stopped going off—" Daryl waved me to shut up, told me he understood what I meant about the lack of electricity leaving everywhere alarm free. "This 'un..." I twisted, trying to look down my nose at the various necklaces. I didn't do dangly shit, like charms, or pansy little hearts, just all different kinds of chains. "Ah, no, _this_ is it." I picked out the one I'd meant. "This one's worth four grand."

Daryl blinked.

"Platinum, baby," I snorted. "Rest of it's your run of the mill silver, white gold, but this one...this one's the bomb." I'd kept the jeweler's label for a while.

"You find someone to give ya four G's for it, nowadays, I'd like to see that."

"Don't care. I like it." I smiled sly-like. "Don't tell me you never took advantage of a little 'world gone to shit' discount."

"For what? If you can't eat or, or kill something with it, what's the point?" He looked kind of shifty, though, to my way of thinking.

"Yeah, well, you ain't interested in clothes, obviously. An' your idea of grand theft auto sucks." I closed my eyes again, willing the Oxy to kick in. I had a hellava edge needed taking off now.

"You're tappin'."

"Huh?"

"You're tappin'." He demonstrated on the wheel with his thumb.

I waved a hand in apology. "'S'it annoying?"

"If I say yes, you gonna do it all the more?"

That made me laugh, but I asked if he didn't miss music, like I did. When he asked if I meant singing, I rolled my eyes. "Jeez, no. No one wants to hear me squawk. I mean listening. I miss it so much. Used to listen all the time, full volume. Wipe out the rest of the world."

Daryl shrugged. "Ain't you got your thing? Listen to that."

"My _thing_? My iPod, y'mean? Nah, it's fucked."

"Even with the new power cord?"

I nodded. "Yeah, musta got it wet sometime or—Wait, how'd ya know I got a new...did you get it for me? On a run? Why didn't you never say?"

He shrugged.

I was gonna say something, but then I thought about the timing. I couldn't remember if the power cord had turned up before or after I was officially with Rick. Would that have made a difference? Daryl had known anyhow, he said it wasn't no secret to him. He said that. So why the hell would he have gotten me anything?

" _You're welcome_."

"Huh?" I dragged my attention back to him.

"You ain't got no manners."

I snorted. "Say what? I seen you _eat_ , remember. You eat like a flatware virgin." I found it intensely amusing that he looked offended. "You eat like a cave man. You eat like...you grew up in a backwoods shack, gnawing on possum and washin' it down with 'shine." I smiled sweetly. "Am I wrong?"

Daryl opened and closed his mouth, without saying a word. Twice. Then he scowled. "You ain't no better. You're more redneck'n me. Takes trash to know trash."

"Me? Ha! You got no idea. Dixon, I see your backwoods shack and raise you a twelve wide with a hole in the floor."

He laughed out loud, then held his ribs, as he spluttered, "You're trailer trash for real?"

"Not no more. I live in a exclusive gated community now, didn't ya notice?"

Narrowing his eyes at me thoughtfully, he nodded. "Yeah, you do at that."

"What? I don't deserve to?" I bridled. "You scooped up Useless Eugene and the pansy pastor, din'cha?"

"True enough. They didn't work it so hard neither." And just like that, the playful atmosphere had vanished.

I took a coupla slow breaths. "Maybe they didn't want it so bad."

"What exactly did you want?" Daryl didn't blink. "You couldn't know we'd end up in Alexandria."

"What does anyone want, these days? To survive. The hot water and clean sheets - that's just gravy."

"And Rick? 'S'he gravy too?"

What the hell was he expecting me to say? My head was starting to spin in time with the pain throbbing in my elbow.

Daryl nodded. "'S'what I thought."

"Fuck you. You don't get to judge me." I grit my teeth, holding back before I said something worse. "Lemme ask you somethin', when was the last time he smiled, before I was around?"

"You dunno what we'd all been through—"

"You think it was sunshine and fucking lollipops for me? An' I do know, most of it. I know 'bout Maggie's sister, Beth—"

" _You know nothin'!"_ He almost launched out of his seat at me, with the force of his shout, making me jump.

The silence froze the air between us.

"Fuck, man. You wanna try again?" I gulped quietly as Daryl drew back into the corner of his seat and looked out the side window. "Maybe some walkers five miles away didn't hear you."

He waved a hand, like he was dismissing me, while he kept his gaze turned away.

"I'm sorry." I swallowed. "I been carrying them Oxy a long while, without touching 'em. I forgot they make me talk shit, always did." I could feel it now, the familiar disconnect, just enough of a barrier between me an' the world, like a sheet of glass keeping me separate. That was the pay off, the painkilling was just...gravy. I lay my head back on the seat, closing my eyes.

Daryl cleared his throat. "I think...if it was walkers done it, it'd be easier to handle."

I stayed still, while his words filtered through my glass bubble.

"Out there, you lose people, that's how it is now. The walkers are like snakes. It ain't really their fault." Daryl paused for long enough that I thought he was done. But then he rasped, "But, when it's people—another person—like it was for m'brother...for Beth. Seems like I coulda done something about it. Shoulda."

"Like what? Get between them and whoever did for 'em?" I opened my eyes in time to see him nod. "Jesus, Dixon, then you wouldn't be here an' they'd be missing you."

He shrugged. Which said a whole shit load of stuff.

"What was your brother like?" I dared to ask, thinking about all that unsaid shit.

"Merle?" His mouth twisted in a half smile. "Let's say he woulda liked you. Woulda liked your stash, too."

"Ah, he was the fun Dixon, then?"

He scoffed at me. "Yeah, right. He was all about the fun." Looking from the bottle to me, he seemed kind of sad, to be honest. "How 'bout you, you get started on that shit for the fun of it? Or is that to do with your 'twelve wide with a hole in the floor'?"

"What?" My mouth felt dry.

"Nobody gets that familiar with a dislocated elbow by accident. Armlock'll do it for ya, if whoever's holding ya ain't careful." _Plus, twisting someone's arm back to hold 'em down, gets about the right angle for someone else to play ashtrays._ Well,I never thought Daryl was stupid.

I breathed slow. Calm and slow.

"Didn't ya tell me 'other people' can be relied on, to hurt ya?" He shrugged. "Figure, one way or another, someone else put ya on the path to carrying 'round a little pharmaceutical assistance."

"Jesus. Daryl Dixon, ace detective." I couldn't quite get the acid I intended, into my comeback.

He flicked the edge of his vest, acknowledging that I must've seen his scars. "Like I said, 'takes trash to know trash'."

"I ain't coming to your pity party. Ain't got nothing to do with who I am now."

"Course it does. Bet it has a load to do with why you're good at climbing trees, too." He raised an eyebrow, but I refused to answer. "See, eventually I could outrun my old man, when he was loaded. But I guess hiding in trees woulda done the job as well."

"I never knew my dad."

"Step dad, then. Your old lady's lay. Whatever." He refused to be redirected.

"Jesus. Who died an' made you Oprah?"

"Prob'ly Oprah."

A giggle burst out of me. I slapped my hand across my mouth. "Robin Hood, you are freaking me the fuck out. Stop."

"You know how fucking tired I am of that Robin Hood shit? It's enough to make me wanna give up using this." He tapped the crossbow.

"Are you serious?"

"No, I ain't serious! Are you crazy? What the hell you think I'd do without it?"

"Get a new nickname?" _Guns_. Looking at his arms, I made a noise that was pretty damn close to another giggle. Shit, I thought, I must be shit faced. That made me giggle for real. I still wasn't quite comfortable though. Fucking antique pile of shit, manufactured before seat cushions were invented. I twisted around, although that moved me away from the door. As a plus, though, I got to lean on something much more comfortable. Pulling my jacket over me made the feeling even better and I settled in.

"Are you kidding me?"

The funniest thing was, he never moved me, just shifted his arm a little so I could rest my head more easy on his shoulder.

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 **A/N: Feedback would be awesome, but a huge thanks anyway, if you're reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

It had only been light for a matter of minutes, when the minivan pulled up, which meant they must've left Alexandria at the official fucking break of dawn. Which made sense for a search party.

Aaron seemed like the kind of guy made for worrying, like it came real natural to him. But it was slightly freaky to see Rick as stressed as he was, over something that wasn't starvation or survival related. I thought on what exactly was bugging him, as he demanded to know if I was okay and how bad I was hurt and kept asking even when I insisted it wasn't no big deal.

I tried to tell 'em that Daryl was banged around, worse'n me, but he just grunted, "Shut up. M'fine," and dropped into the front seat of their car, closing his eyes like he intended to sleep on the trip back. Only that was when Rick told him what had happened to the other run team, Glenn's team, while we were gone: Deanna's son, Aiden, was dead. _Noah_ was dead. Tara was in a bad way, with a head injury.

"Glenn's okay, though?" Daryl demanded, his voice like splintering ice.

"He is." Rick's arm tightened around my shoulders as he answered. "But Aiden's wingman, Nicholas, he's got some answers to come up with. Eugene reckons it was all on him, Noah especially."

Daryl lay his head back and closed his eyes, but no longer looked anywhere near relaxed enough to sleep, despite the fact I suspected he'd stayed awake all night, while I was passed out on him.

There was no arguing with Rick, who insisted my first stop be the infirmary, even though I tried my damnedest—until he asked if I was nervous about seeing Tara laid up, reassured me she'd be okay.

I smiled weakly. I'd realized a beat or two too late that I oughta be worried about her, of course, what with us havin' been roomies an' all. Only I had no frame of reference for what it meant, to be a 'concerned friend'. So I said I'd go, see her, get a proper sling and all that.

Admittedly, I assumed Daryl would stop in there too. He didn't. He accepted Aaron's offer of breakfast and went with him.

Rick said he'd come pick me up, after he checked in at the house; he'd lit out before anyone was up, when he realized we didn't get back during the night, dragging Aaron out his bed to make him show him the route we'd taken. Now Rick needed to let Carl know he was back, plus he was supposed to be 'on duty' and needed to change into his uniform.

"Sure," I drawled, as we prepared to go in different directions. "I'mma sleep the rest of the day, anyhow." Another hit of Oxy oughta see to that. "You go direct some traffic, or whatever."

He let a smile slide onto his face and leaned in, almost close enough to kiss me. "Glad you're back."

"Glad to be here."

I was still smiling to myself as I went into the building. Until I saw Tara, lying like a statue in the bed, and Rosita sitting with her. Rosita exclaimed some and asked about my arm, then volunteered all the shit I should've been asking about Tara.

All I could do was watch for her chest to move, to prove that she was breathing.

"Will you stay with her? While I go back for a shower and change of clothes?" Rosita asked quietly. My knee-jerk response was to open my mouth to point out that I was the one just spent the night in a goddamn car, but then she smiled and added, "I think she'd like it, if you were here when she woke up."

These people. These fucking people. Sure, I'd worked on the ones I had to, but only to get to the one I needed most. Turned out, maybe they liked me anyhow. Go figure. Shit, I was still mellow from the Oxy. That had to be it. I said okay, otherwise Tara would be alone—Colin the puker's appendix had turned out to be a false alarm.

The pleased vibe evaporated, soon enough, when Sleazy Pete turned up for duty. I told him the short version of events.

"And this has happened before?" He motioned for me to sit on the examination couch and take my arm out of Daryl's T shirt. "Any loss of feeling? Tingling in your fingers?"

"Ever? Or now?" Maybe he was going to be straight doctory, today, that would suit me fine. "One time it was real bad, but that was years ago. Since last night, when it went back in, it's okay. Sore enough— _Jesus_!" He'd grabbed my arm quicker than I'd anticipated.

He didn't apologize, just went through a range of tests, including holding both my arms in front of me, like he was weighing my elbows. He was close enough that his legs were against my knees. "Seems like you were lucky and it reduced without complications." His hands slid up the backs of my arms.

"You givin' me a sling, or what?" I demanded rudely.

"I think we should do some more checks—you have been in an accident, after all. There might be other injuries you're not aware of. Why don't I get you a gown..."

"You gonna be giving Daryl a thorough goin' over?" I scoffed and tried to move away. Unsuccessfully. He was just being pig headed, I told myself. Tara was—technically—right in the room.

"Sure. If he comes in."

I snorted. "Yeah. You got about as much chance of that as you have of seeing me in your fucking gown. Gimme a sling and I'll be outta here."

"You're a very hostile person," he commented pleasantly, still without moving. I was pretty sure it wasn't just his leg pressing into me now, but I refused to look down. He leaned right into my personal space, so's I could smell his minty breath. "I'm trying to be nice to you."

"Yeah, well, you got all the bedside manner of a stalker." I scooted backwards, thinking I'd swing around and get off the other side of his goddamn casting couch.

The grab around my throat caught me completely by surprise and he shoved me down onto my back before I could react.

"I _said_ , I need to examine you."

Outraged, I swung with my left fist and by luck, clipped him on the side of the eye, giving myself the opportunity of twisting away from him and onto the floor.

"You little bitch." He wasn't even yelling. I knew that was dangerous. There are men who yell and men who let their anger out in other ways. Pete was between me and the door. I scanned quickly, looking for another exit, checking what I could use as a weapon, checking the whole room.

And I saw what I needed.

I took a sideways step, angling more towards the door, and he mirrored me.

"This is about to become your worst nightmare," I said, "you still got time to let me go."

" _My_ worst nightmare? I think you're the one in line for a lesson or two."

I checked the door again. Or more specifically the window, next to the door. The one with a view of the street outside.

"Fuck you," I said, making each syllable crystal clear as I took one more step, this time, going against all sense, towards him. Then—and his confusion was fucking hilarious—I put my hand to the strap of my vest top and ripped it open. " _Fuck. You_."

Pete slapped me, an open handed slap to the face, meaning my head snapped to the side at the exact second that Rick, in his new uniform, stepped through the door.

Rick's eyes flashed, even before his hand had a chance to leave the door handle, then he was across the room and his hands were on Pete's throat and he slammed him against the wall. " _What the hell was that?"_ he roared. Like there was going to be any answer that satisfied him.

His eyes flicked to me, while the two of them struggled. I held my cheek, going for a combo of fear and shock. Then I 'noticed' my exposed bra and tugged the material of my top up.

Pete yelled in Rick's face, "She did that herself, I never—"

"You never hit her? You never _assaulted_ her?"

As Rick screamed back in outrage, Pete got in a punch that separated them briefly. He whirled around, yelling something about this being _his_ town and Rick having no authority. Rick launched himself back at him and they tangled together again, until—with an almighty roar—Rick propelled them both through the front window.

The sound of the breaking glass echoed, like sharp rain falling on metal.

By the time I sprinted out the door, they were rolling on the blacktop, throttling each other, clawing, gouging. Blood was visible on both of them, but almost covered Rick's face. He looked like some kind of monster. He looked like not one single thing in the world was beyond his grasp, if he wanted to reach out and take it.

Pete was on top when his wife tried to yank him away, the first time I realized other people had been attracted by the noise and more were arriving. Blondie took a backhander from her darling husband that effectively stopped her interference and Rick gained enough momentum to swing back around on top of Pete.

Then it was the kid who went in to try and stop Rick. I coulda told him he wasn't getting nowhere with that plan. I helped him up as he was shoved away in turn.

"What'd you do?" Carl rounded on me, with a glare, then concentrated on the fight, called out 'Dad' again.

"Stop it! Right now!" Lady Fancypants herself was ringside. And Rick almost did stop. He had a choke hold on Pete and everyone heard the promise,

"You go near her again and _I will kill you_."

Glenn had arrived, skidding to a halt, his eyes sending me a worried glance, and he was already heading for Rick as Deanna ordered— _ordered_ —Rick to stop once more. Like she had any say, any authority, left. She knew it, he knew it, they all knew it, as she told Rick to stop and Rick turned and sneered:

" _Or what? You gonna kick me out?"_

He drew his gun and they all froze. Comically so, in some cases, like it was the first gun they'd ever seen. Well, maybe it was the first one pointed _at_ them.

I let a smile start to grow inside me. ' _Just in case'_ , he'd said. Well, this was the case, all right—and now they had to listen to Rick tell 'em how it was. Exactly how it was.

" _You still don't get it...None of you do..._ _We_ _know what needs to be done and we do it._ _We're_ _the ones who live_."

They twitched. Fuck 'em all. He was right.

" _You want this place to stay standing?_ _Your way of doing things is done."_

My peripheral attention was on the kid, who was edging forwards, behind Rick's back. I was prepared to grab him, stop him if necessary. These fucking candy asses needed to hear this. This was where Rick stepped up and over the whole goddamned bunch of 'em. Took the control that should be his. Took the town.

Deanna tried to make some feeble point but it was gonna be a waste of her breath because Rick was still in charge:

" _Starting right now, we have to live in the real world...If you don't fight, you die—"_

He fell sideways.

"Nooooo!" I didn't have time to think as I flew at Michonne, fully intending my fingernails to connect with her eyeballs. _She hit him!_ She hit him in the head, took him out. Stopped him. " _What did you do?"_ I screamed, but I barely touched her because Glenn caught me around the middle and swung me away. I fought him, flailing, as I yelled at Michonne, "You stupid bitch! What have you done? What have you done?"

My frantic scrabbling got me out of Glenn's grasp and I fell onto my knees, huddled over Rick's completely still figure.

 _She didn't kill him, she didn't, don't let her have killed him... So fucking close to taking over. So fucking close..._

He was breathing. Because he wasn't dead. _He wasn't. He wasn't._

Rosita squatted at my side and asked me to let her take a look at Rick's injuries. I wondered why she was talking so quiet, so gentle. Why she didn't just do it.

"Sarah? You wanna let me...?" I watched Glenn's hand reach slowly for the knife I had no memory of drawing, but which was keeping them all away from me. And Rick.

My eyes went over to where Michonne was talking with Deanna, their tones hushed, their hand gestures urgent. So close...

" _Sarah_." Glenn unclenched my fingers one by one and I let him.

xxXxx

I sat with my back against the wall, staring at Michonne.

"Just hand them over." She and I had faced off, when they brought Rick—still unconscious—into the empty house. Jail. Call it whatever they fucking well liked, that's what it was. Glenn wasn't exactly refereeing, but he had carefully positioned himself between the two of us.

"Or what? You gonna pat me down?" I took a step closer to Michonne. "You wanna try it? Bring it on, bitch."

"Whoa there." Rosita looked up from where she was wiping the blood off Rick's face. "Some of these are deep, I could do with another pair of hands."

Michonne shook her head at me. "Sarah, you're not staying. Not unless you hand over your knives."

I sat down near Rick, leaned against the wall and folded my arms. Stared her out. "And yet. Here I am."

She pulled up a folding chair and sat down, opposite me.

Rosita clicked her tongue on her teeth. "I guess I'll manage on my own then." She and Glenn exchanged glances and he dropped down, passing her another cloth, opening band aids and little sticky wound closures as she asked for them. Between them they got Rick looking like a fucking patchwork quilt.

How the hell was I to know he'd end up going through a window?

But getting Pete out of the picture had so nearly advanced the whole fucking plan, it was like it had been meant to happen right then. Rick would've been in charge, and I'd have been safe. No one would mess with me ever, if the town leader was in my bed every night.

 _C'mon, Sheriff, wake up. Wake up._

After a minute, I looked around and realized there was only Michonne in the room. I curled my lip at her. "Why don't you piss off? He ain't gonna want to see you, not after what you did."

"I did it _for_ him."

"Bullshit. He was all over it, he had it—"

"No." She kept her voice steady. "That wasn't the way."

I clenched my fists in frustration.

"Michonne?" Carl came in. His face went kind of pale. "Hasn't he woken up yet?" He went down on one knee, shook Rick gently. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"'Course," I said at the same time as Michonne said, "Yes."

I was on the receiving end of a scowl, she got a more grateful look. Well, that figured. He sat down, next to the mattress and did what I was doing, watched Rick breathe. The silence flooded the room. I actually jumped, when Carl finally looked over at Michonne and quietly spoke.

"Will we have to leave now?"

"I don't think it'll come to that."

I wasn't so sure she was right.

"If we do...Do you think Dad'll let anyone come with us?" _Oh,_ _wait a minute now_. Very casually asked. That was interesting. Who was he thinking of taking? I watched him hedge around answering Michonne as she asked exactly that, to the point where he didn't even put up no argument when she suggested he go home.

Rosita came back, briefly, with a clean top for me and a goddamn sling. I was torn, between admitting that my elbow was throbbing and looking weak in front of Michonne. I settled on the sensible option and threaded the stupid thing around my neck. But I grit my teeth and drew the line at taking any more Oxy; I needed my wits about me.

I made a show of being tired, edged onto the mattress next to Rick, daring Michonne to say something. Which is when I noticed his hand.

xxXxx

I never left his side. I was there when he came around, when he played along with Carol's story about the 'secret' guns—and when he went ahead and told Michonne anyhow. And she said she was on his side, whatever. It was just the _way_ they took over that they disagreed on. I wanted to get Daryl's take, but he'd gone back out with Aaron, to retrieve the stuff from the lake trip.

We were back in the house by then. Deanna was holding some kind of 'meeting', some kind of kangaroo court more like. As if kicking out Rick made any fucking sense. He was their best chance, still.

He was my best chance, still. That hadn't changed. In one sense it had worked better than I expected.

I glanced at his hand again. Told myself to fucking shape up. I was spooked is all, and maybe it didn't mean a damn thing anyhow. Maybe he took off his wedding ring, regular-like, maybe he always had, it didn't have to mean anything.

Stay calm. I turned around, paced over the window to give myself thinking space. Blinked, as I looked out.

"We oughta get—"

" _Rick_." I cut him off. I could see down the main street. As far as the perimeter wall.

"Sarah—"

" _Rick._ _The gate_. The gate's open."

He was next to me in one second and whirling out the room the next. I followed, but by the time I got to the entrance road he was already running back.

"Walkers. Inside the perimeter." He was scanning the houses, the prissy little walkways and garden paths. I fell in with him and fumbled for my knife, left handed.

"No." He stepped in front of me. "I got this. _Go._ Go to the meeting, tell Glenn, Michonne, Abraham. Tell 'em Daryl isn't back yet. Get the rest of 'em inside." This was what he did best.

I nodded, took off in the direction of Deanna's lynch mob, got there just in time to hear:

"And all of us, who were together before this place...we're family now. Rick started that." Maggie might have just become my favorite person in the whole fucking world. Shame to gatecrash her speech, but needs must.

" _Listen up_." I skidded to a halt, almost elbowing Deanna out of the way. "You wanna know what Rick's doin', right now? The man you're fixing to kick out? He's cleaning up your mess." I couldn't see Glenn, but I marked where the others were. "Your fuckin' gate was open—there's walkers in here—" Some of the candy asses squawked, all the real people went for their knives, Abe making a move for the doorway behind me. "You people got no fucking clue exactly how much you need Rick Grimes."

It was like poetry or something that Rick came in, toting a walker corpse that he threw down in front of 'em. What more fucking persuading did they need?

And then Pete showed up, waving Michonne's sword, ranting like a raving lunatic. He shoved at the old dude, Deanna's husband, when he tried to shut him up. He probably didn't even mean to cut him. I ain't sure he knew what he was doing, sword or no fucking sword. But the outcome was the same.

Blood.

Yelling.

People moving, pinning down Pete. Deanna wailing against the inevitable.

When she looked up at Rick, I saw it in her eyes. Finally. Finally she knew hate, knew it deep in her bones. Knew the fire and the ice of it. And she had the weapon she needed.

" _Rick. Do it_." _S_ he was judge and jury, and now she had a executioner.

And right at the second that the shot rang out, three new figures moved into the light from the fire.

Daryl.

Aaron.

And a third man, dirty blond and dressed in a shabby leather jacket with a new rip in it, who stepped forwards into the scene and ignored the whole deal. Despite the shocked crowd, the sobbing widows, the one old and two fresh corpses and the gun wielding Rick, he ignored everything and looked right at me and, with a smile, he drawled:

"Hello, Janey."

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah, not Morgan – he's gonna have to find his own way to Alexandria!**


	11. Chapter 11

" _Hello, Janey."_

 _Oh no. Nonononono._

My lungs, my guts, my heart, all turned to stone, fixing me on the spot, as people turned their heads to see who he was talking to. People like Maggie. Eugene. Abraham.

Rick.

"Sarah?" Rick frowned at me in confusion, making the newcomer snort.

" _Sarah_? _That_ the alias you come up with this time, Janey? Little sis, you always was a first class liar." He grinned widely. He always did like to think he knew more'n everyone around him.

Behind him, Daryl stepped in closer.

There wasn't much room in back of the group, what with the way the Stepfordites had all smushed together, in shock from seeing the walker, then Reg, then Pete. But I could see the gap in the wall. It was there if I needed it.

Other options crowded my mind, although my elbow could be a problem. I wished I was closer to Rick, close enough to reach his gun. Wished we were all packing. Fuck Deanna and her fucking stupid fucking rules...My belt knife, though, it'd have to be that. Sling off, knife out, that's what I'd—

"Sweetheart, you okay?" Abe's whisper rumbled somewhere to the left of my shoulder, as I gulped for air, and I saw Wade narrow his eyes, checking then dismissing the big guy. He swung his gaze back to Rick, the man who'd just executed someone in front of him. The man at the centre of the whole group.

"You in charge, then?" he asked, although he'd already worked that out, he didn't need the answer. He smirked as he introduced himself. "Wade Callahan. Your buddies here were kind enough to bring me in."

 _Oh, Daryl. Why?_ I stopped the thought, stone cold. I knew exactly why. Who the fuck taught _me_ how to get in under anyone's defenses?

Wade was loving every second of it, being the new centre of attention in the supercharged atmosphere. "I sure am surprised to see you've had the pleasure of Janey...'s company." He made a show of realizing something: "Now, your guy here had questions for me," —I couldn't look at Daryl. Of course he'd asked Wade. Of course he had— "he said everyone hadda answer 'em okay to join the group. So...how'd Janey do on them questions, huh? ' _How many people you killed?_ ' That's fucking hilarious." He touched his hairline, touched it and winked at me.

 _Knife_. I needed to remember how to move my hand. I had a knife.

"Was I on her list? She tell you she killed me? She'd've been half right. Left me for dead, for sure. You wanna see the dent she left in my skull?"

"Everyone's had to do things," Rick snapped, suddenly taking back the conversation. "I'm more interested in why she thought she had to kill you."

"That so? Well, y'are the boss, after all." Wade nodded. "So...she's fucking you, yeah? The ol' honey trap always was her specialty long con."

I took a step backwards.

"Works every time, don't it, sis?" He grinned at me.

"Hey," Abraham's shadow leaned towards Wade's, but Rick...Rick was just looking at me the whole time. Everyone was looking at me.

Not turned to stone any more. I was shaking now, starting to shake.

"Seriously, how'd she do on them questions? There a statute of limitations on 'em? 'Cause she did kill a man outright. Afore she tried it on me, I mean. Only thing is..." Master of the fucking dramatic pause "...you think to ask her whether it went down _before_ or _after_ the world went to shit?"

I ran.

I ran without looking back, without hearing any of the voices, any of 'em.

This place had tried to make us soft, like it was, my stuff wasn't packed up no more. I tore into the house and up the stairs, losing the sling, grabbing my golf club bag from the hooks in the hallway as I went past. Then Tara's room. My room. I hadn't left anything much in the master bedroom, I didn't think, and if I did I had no intention of going in there.

If his ring was on the night stand, I didn't wanna see it.

I was cramming clothes into my back pack, scanning the room for anything else useful, when the pounding footsteps came to a halt in the doorway. My fingers tensed around the scissors from the dresser. Technically they were Tara's, but I figured no one would be surprised now, to discover I'd walked off with 'em. I didn't turn around. I couldn't turn around.

I did have just enough air in my lungs to mutter, "I'mma go...You c...can't stop me."

"Why'd I wanna stop you?"

I moved my head to stare at Daryl.

 _Daryl._

The fuck? I fought down the entirely idiotic wash of disappointment. Major shit had just gone down, Rick would be expected and expecting to take care of it; Deanna had effectively just handed him the key to the town. Exactly what I'd wanted all along. _Shit._

"Rick ain't gonna listen to that prick. You got nothin' to worry about." Daryl took a step into the room but I edged away, so he stopped.

"You don't know. He...he always t...talks people around. He always did. Didn't he just talk himself into coming to Alexandria with you?"

"He saved Aaron's life. I wouldn't've gotten to him in time, I was on the other side of the lake." He shrugged, apologetically. "You really try and kill him?"

"I thought I d...did. After the supermarket, he c...caught up to me again."

"That was your brother back then? In that office?" Daryl whistled low.

I nodded. "I gotta g...get out—" The air had disappeared again. I reached out to steady myself on the window frame. It took me two attempts to make my fingers grip.

"Hey." Daryl had covered the width of the room. "Breathe."

I dragged my eyes up to his. "You don't know. You d...don't—Fuck! I can't even t...talk straight when he's around. That's pure Janey, that is."

"That really your name?"

I shook my head. "Used to call me Jane Doe. Said it fit, 'cause if I ended up with a t...tag on my toe, no one would give a fuck."

"Who said? Your brother?"

" _Step_. 'S'my step brother. An' n...not him. His dad."

"He the one with the cigarettes?" Smart, very smart. Daryl Dixon, ace detective. "The one who did for your elbow?" Then, of course, "He the one you killed, back when?"

All of me laid out, like some skinned rabbit. Shit. Shitshitshit.

I hated that I needed to ask. For anything. From anyone. From him. Janey was the one needed help. Not me. Not me. But every single cell in my body was screaming, 'run'. "Please." I licked my lips. "Please get me outta here."

We went to one of the empty houses, the drywall half finished, the electrics poking out randomly. Daryl led the way, but there wasn't no one in sight as we slunk through backyards and went in the kitchen door.

"Okay, I don't think there's gonna be no house-to-house searchin'." Daryl nodded at me, indicated that I should sit on the countertop. "Get your head together. Tell me what we need to know about this prick." He leaned opposite me, back against one of the few cabinets with a door installed.

I concentrated on my breathing. No album listing in the world was gonna help me now. _Sarah, not Janey. Sarah, not Janey..._ "He'll talk your shirt off your back so sweet, you'll think it was your own idea to give it to him. He's a thief an' a con artist. A grifter."

A quick nod acknowledged he was listening, taking in what I was saying.

"And so am I." I swallowed. "I figure Carol and Carl'll be high-fiving each other by now. Y'all had me pegged pretty early on."

"Why'd you pick 'Sarah'?"

I blinked at him. _That_ was what he was thinking about, in this whole fucking mess? "You ever see them old Terminator movies? That was one kick-ass chick. I figured I could do worse."

He half smiled at my reasoning, but his next question cut right back to the bone. "And why'd you pick Rick?"

"You know why." I swallowed again.

"I wanna hear ya say it."

"Because I wanted to be safe. And the only way to be safe is to be top of the pile, or with the person who's top of the pile. On _my_ terms." I met his eyes, although it hurt all the way down inside to do it. "You listen to him." It wasn't even about leadership, when it came down to it, not like that. "If I was with you an' he said he wanted me, I couldn't be sure you wouldn't let him."

Daryl recoiled, like the words was hot acid in his face.

I shrugged. Don't ask, if you don't wanna hear the answer.

He opened his mouth and then closed it. Like he couldn't form the words he needed. Well, surprise, fucking surprise. Turning away, he leaned on the countertop, hands gripping the edge, knuckles white. When he did speak, his voice was quiet and scratchy. "You stupid bitch."

I stiffened, ready to jump down. Ready to run.

He grit his teeth, like it was painful to speak. "You don't know either one of us. At all."

But I did. I knew them like I knew every other man in the world. The living and the dead. Especially the dead. Maybe some moves could throw me, shit like Rick taking off his wedding ring, but not for long. My options always hadda put me first, or I would be Janey again.

Daryl paced the length of the kitchen. Working it out. Working me out. "Why'd you show me your scars, that day?" Usually, even if a grift goes south, you're long gone by the time the mark works out all the steps. Usually, the bridges were burning well behind me.

"I knew, if I showed you I'd been hurt too, there was a chance you'd back off, quit badmouthing me to Rick."

He looked kind of sick. "What'd ya mean ' _too'_?"

"I saw ya...saw your scars."

"Yeah. When we crashed the pickup."

I shook my head. "On the road. I'd seen ya, before you burned your hand."

He squinted, like he couldn't bear to look right at me. "You used me? You used what happened to you, to get in my head?"

"Are you getting it now? That Wade is an evil, murdering bastard, but _he's not lying about me_?"

His eyes flicked back and away from me, as he tried to process what I was saying. And then he very nearly called my bluff, got real close to seeing right through me. "Jesus Christ, are you tryin' a tell me, you _chose_ to do everything you did? _Bullshit._ You got hurt bad as a kid—" _Don't ask. Don't ask for details._ "Rick musta seen your scars, ain't he?"

"I told him I didn't want to talk about it."

Daryl exhaled in frustration. "But he'll get it, that you got pushed too far, you snapped—"

"I was high."

There. That stopped Daryl in his tracks.

"He wasn't hittin' me, he wasn't...doin' nothing to me. Not when I killed him. He was passed out drunk." I swallowed. "Wade said, it didn't count as 'self defense'. Not like that. Said he'd help me though. Said we'd split town, lay low..."

Wade said a lot in those days. An' I didn't. Partly 'cause he kept the pills and booze coming. Partly because I didn't know what I wanted to say. I hadn't ever had the chance to be me. I had no opinions. No options. Not then. The first time Wade used me to hook a mark, I was so strung out, I barely realized what was happening.

And if I ever tried to say no, Wade threatened to turn me into the cops for murder.

Daryl pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one. When he held it out to me, I half smiled.

"I gave up. World's gonna run out one day soon an' you'll haveta give up too. You wanna know how I got clean? When everything happened, we were up country somewhere. Wade got us hooked up with this biker gang. They had a cabin, way back in the woods, almost like a survivalist place, y'know?" And I was Wade's currency again. "He didn't seem to notice that the longer we was there, the straighter I got 'cause he was running out of all of his shit." I shrugged. "'Apocalypse as rehab', go figure."

I told him how a couple of the bikers got sick, died, and turned. That was when we first knew for sure it wasn't about getting bit. By then I was watching for my opportunity. An' one day, I boosted one of the Scramblers and lit out.

"I'd been real unlucky, that day in the supermarket, I thought. Thought it was coincidence that they all showed up. Turned out Wade was trackin' me." Turned out Wade was a bona fide psycho. "By the time they caught me, there was only a couple of 'em left an' he did for the pair of 'em, in a fight over nothing."

We lost the bikes soon after 'cause neither of us was a mechanic.

"That when you tried to kill him?" There wasn't no judgement in Daryl's voice, he kept it level. I chewed my lip.

"Nah. Not quite." And I looked him dead in the eye and kept my voice— _Sarah_ 's voice—on one level too. "We met this guy on the road. All he had to eat was one can of dog food. Turns out I have a price point, which I ain't gonna go below." I made sure he was with me, he was understanding exactly what I was saying. "Turns out that I lied to ya, 'survival' ain't the be-all and end-all. Maybe I'd've let Wade pimp me out for hot water an' clean sheets, but dog food...Nah."

I told him Wade had downed the guy anyhow, then I hit him over the head with a rock while he was opening the can.

I guess the need to run kicked in too early. But I was so sure he was dead. If I'd stayed, to see if he was breathin'...Like Tara. Like Rick. And I didn't stab him in the head. On purpose. He deserved to turn. I wanted him to turn.

I was so sure he was dead.

"You know that Rick'll take your side. Your brother— _Wade_ , is it?—he'll have to walk, is all." Yeah. Not in a month of fucking Sundays, not now he'd seen this little set up. Daryl tossed his cigarette butt aside and rubbed his face, leaning back on the cabinet again. He hadda be running on empty. "I don't even know what the fuck went down over there tonight—" of course, he'd missed all the drama "—but Rick will see things your way. He will."

And that was the problem. Because he just might. But if I was right about the removal of his ring having real importance for him, he might not. Because I'd been playing a game of mutual give 'n take, but I might've played it all wrong. He might actually have had...feelings. For me.

How would I know? How would I possibly know?

And so he might forgive me, or he might hate me.

God help me, I wasn't sure which was the worse option.

"Look, enough of this guessin'." Daryl shoved off the cabinet and made for the door. "Lemme see what's going down. I'll talk to Rick. You hang tight here. Sarah—?" He caught himself as he said it. "Whatever. You. Hang. Tight. Here. Okay?"

If I nodded, so what? Hadn't we already established I was a liar?

That occurred to him, I think, because he paused in the doorway, looked back. "The past is the past, you know that, right? Once you were in this group, you were _in_ this group. Someone told me once, you gotta stay who you _are_. Not who you were."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Oprah."

"There y'are! I knew you was in there somewhere. Whoever the hell y'are." He tried for a smile. He had no idea. No fucking idea.

"Dixon?" He turned around, surprised. Christ knows what his expression was when I put my arms around him and hugged him. "Thank you, Daryl," I told his shoulder, then sent him on his way with a little shove.

xxXxx

" _Someone told me once, you gotta stay who you are. Not who you were."_

I thought about it; how could I not?

I thought about the fact that Rick had taken off his ring and everything that—probably— signified. Whatever he was looking for, whatever he thought he'd got, it wasn't me. Not the real me.

' _Stay who you are'_ – Even Daryl meant the new and improved Sarah, the Stepford Sarah, the one who was a team player and had friends and all of that shit. Not the grifter. Not the whore. Not the abused kid.

' _Not who you were'_ – But in between, when I was running from Wade, I wasn't any of those things. And that's who I wanted to be again. Just myself.

It was probably less than hour since it all kicked off, at the meeting. The streets were empty. Wherever they were talking to Wade, it was indoors somewhere. I assumed someone had taken care of the night's body count. Someone would've sure needed to take care of Deanna's old man, since he hadn't been killed with a head shot, but that wasn't none of my concern.

I set the fire small. Partly because I felt guilty, that Daryl would assume it was his cigarette had started it. And partly because I only needed a diversion, I didn't want the whole place to burn down for real.

There was a gate guard now, some guy, some Alexandria guy, uncomfortable with the rifle on his shoulder. Walkers inside the walls had at least convinced them Rick was right about that. But it would take a little while for someone—Maggie, maybe—to make real rules about who and what went through the gate. From the inside. For now, they were operating on the old system; going out wasn't no problem.

I'd thought about it all and I'd considered my options.

If the gate guy wondered why I had Daryl's motorcycle, why I was leaving at night, why I never started the engine until I was outside the walls, he didn't ask.

Daryl would know it was me, of course. I wasn't so sure if he'd get the why of it. The reason that running was, in the end, always my only and best option. The only way for me to be...me. I hoped he would get it—shit, I wasn't that good a pickpocket, he had to have known I was taking his key when I hugged him.

I left him my iPod on the garage floor, all the same.

 **xx The End xx**

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and followed. I appreciate everyone's time. And I'd love to know your thoughts now.**

 **For everyone who was hanging out for some Daryl romance, sorry! But -** **I wanted to get this done before the second half of the season starts up, since I was playing with their time in Alexandria before some major canon events. But I do know what happens next, for 'Sarah'. So, maybe one day...**


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